


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 


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A MASQDE OF HONOR. 




—BY— 

c/ 

CAROLINE WASHBURN ROCKWOOD. 

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oFC ^G^ 

.-■JPYRIGH7 ^ 

JUL 19 1889 ^ 

' an 1 

10'GTOy- 


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FUNK & WAGNALLS 


NEW YORK : 


1889 


18 AND 20 ASTOR PLACE. 


44 


LONDON : 

FLEET STREET. 






^5 





Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1889, by 
FUNK & WAGNALLS 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

INTRODUCTORY NOTES 5 

I. AT THE DRESSMAKER’S 7 

II. LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. ... 20 

III. THE SECRET OF POWER 33 

IY. PUZZLING AGITATION. . . . . . . 43 

Y. AN ACCIDENT 49 

VI. INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. ... 54 

VII. A BOSTON GIRL'S WAYS 64 

VIII. MR. WESTLAND RETURNS 74 

IX. FROM LIGHT TO DARKNESS 80 

X. JEANNE AND MARGARET 85 

XI. MARGARET AND STEPHEN 96 

XII. JEANNE AT HOME 107 

XIII. STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. . 112 

XIV. THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY 123 

XV. THE MISFORTUNES OF RESEMBLANCE. . 129 

XVI. THOSE WHO SOW, REAP 134 

XVII. UNSNARLING THE TANGLES 140 

XVIII. BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. . . 150 

XIX. DAYS OF PROMISE 162 

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INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 


One day, not many months ago, a little group of 
book-lovers met in the editorial sanctum of a well- 
known periodical, whereupon the conversation 
drifted into bitterly expressed regrets that there 
were so many deplorable tendencies in modem 
fiction. 

“On one hand,” said a noted critic, who was 
present, “ we have didactic dryness, meted out ac- 
cording to mathematical measure ; and on the 
other there is most loathsome realism. One wearies 
us because too much microscopic analysis has made 
it dull, and the other nauseates us because it only 
smacks of the diseased spots in life. The sole off- 
set to these is the sensationalism of the wildest of 
impossibilities in one direction, and the sensation- 
alism of sensual indecencies on the other. No one, 
now-a-days, writes good, wholesome, old-fashioned 
romances, which can be picked up with the certainty 
of entertainment assured in advance, read with 
delight, and put down with regret. When I want 

5 


6 


INTRODUCTORY NOTE. 


to read fiction which I can enjoy, I have to go back 
to the writers of a past generation — Scott, Dickens, 
Thackeray, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and others of 
that age. It is useless to look to the present 
generation for really pleasing fiction.” 

The most of those who listened to him agreed 
with him fully, and none dissented in any marked 
degree. 

Among others who heard this sweeping general- 
ization uttered was the writer of this note. 

On returning to my lodgings, that day, I found a 
package of manuscript and a note awaiting me. 
The note asked me read the manuscript and decide 
whether it had best be printed or burned. Com- 
plying with the first half of this request, in the 
light of what my critical friend had just said, I was 
delighted to find that it lacked all of the elements 
which he deplored, and that it also abounded with 
other praiseworthy attributes. Consequently I not 
only advised but urged its publication. 

Here it is, and I am sure that there are hosts of 
novel-readers who will join me in thanking its 
author for “A Saratoga Romance.” 

May the 23rd, 1889. Lew Yanderpoole. 


A MASQUE OF HONOR. 
CRUMBS, CRUSTS AND CAKE. 
A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 

i. 

AT THE DRESSMAKER’S. 

A EGA RET Selden nearly forgot her 
chronic aversion to Saratoga, as she sat 
in Madame Miller’s parlor, comfortably 
curled up in a great arm-chair and 
nearly concealed from all eyes by the window 
draperies. Through the half-closed blinds and the 
flickering shadows thrown by the overhanging elms, 
she watclued the constantly changing throng on 
Broadway, as it passed below her. The August 
breeze toyed with leaves, dainty toilettes and the 
scalloped edges of the awnings in front of the 
“Grand Union ” shops, in and out of which an end- 
less stream of humanity was passing, with as many 
varieties of carriage and expression as generally 
distinguish patronesses of fashionable shops. 

“The Westminster Peal” in Bethesda church 

7 



8 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


tower was sounding its gentle call to morning 
prayers, in attestation of the fact that Saratoga is 
one of the few summer resorts which can boast of 
earnestness as well as gayety and which, if some- 
times too frivolous, does penance for it by the fre- 
quency of fervent worship. 

As a watering-place, the whole character of 
Saratoga is unique, for even when it is most 
intensely mirthful it is never flippant and always 
impresses the close observer as being even more 
domestic than it is social. There are many things 
which contribute to its atmosphere of earnestness. 
First of all, it is a place where the past — an heroic 
past — seems always close at hand, and the forceful 
influence of this, with all that pertains to it, thrusts 
itself upon the lightest and most heedless, at unex- 
pected moments. 

There is, also, the influence of many cultured 
homes ; places where better things than rank and 
wealth receive first homage, and after these there 
are, as well, the sanitariums and family hotels, all 
of which are as dignified as they are well appointed 
and in many of which there is always morning and 
evening worship. 

In not a few of these, the daily drawing-room 
devotions are led by celebrated divines, who find it 
possible to be as impressive and zealous amid social 


AT THE DRESSMAKERS. 


9 


attractions and claims as when environed by the 
more majestic stateliness of bronzed and ivoried 
altar-pieces and multitudinous other church - 
gatherings. 

Nowhere in America, aside from Saratoga, does 
one meet such a diverse array of representative 
people, and this, of course, is another dignifying 
characteristic and one which contributes solidity, as 
it were, without sombreness. Wit and philosophy 
jostle each other; theosophists and theologians 
break bread together with the most urbane com- 
placency ; authors hob nob with legal lights, and 
poets and scientists forget all other rivalries in the 
predominating one of social brilliancy. 

Only a passing thought of all this, however, 
passes idly through the mind of Margaret, as she 
pictures to herself the pretty church around the 
corner, mentally reviewing all its parts, one after 
the other, as she so well knows them. She can 
easily fancy the cool- and shadowed heights, the 
chancel floor, bathed in soft rich tints, which fall 
upon it from the beautiful memorial window above 
the reredos; the gleaming organ flutings, rising- 
above the bowed head of the vested organist as he 
fills the church with restful harmonies, and the 
typically pastoral face of the good rector, who has 
so long watched over this particular flock. She 


10 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


can almost hear the subdued rustle and movement 
of incoming worshipers and is indistinctly conscious 
of a feeling of self reproval as she recognizes fami- 
liar faces among the devoutly disposed who are 
bending their steps in the direction of the sweet- 
toned bells. 

“ What a bright picture it all makes ! how well- 
conditioned and prosperous every one seems. I 
wonder what people mean by calling this a poor 
season — ” 

So mused Margaret, having heard many disserta- 
tions upon the unprofitableness of “ election year ” 
and the “slowness” of June and July, which 
seemed so emphatically contradicted by the crush 
of unstinted elegance in the scene before her. 

The stray sun-beams which insisted upon forcing 
themselves through leaves, blinds and draperies, 
became harmless elements of beauty, whose sole 
mission seemed to be to enhance the lovliness of 
costly fabrics and rare confections, and they won a 
smile from Margaret as her eyes turned from the 
street pageant and rested upon the various womanly 
belongings which were spread out before her. The 
smile was, partly, the natural result of her delight — 
as a well ordered daughter of Eve — in tasteful ap- 
parel, and, also, was inspired by the sharp and odd 


at the dressmaker’s. 11 

contrast between her present surroundings and those 
she had known a week before. 

She wondered what Arthur Graham would have 
to say to such a collection of “ fripperies,” as be 
irreverently termed gown, ribbons, laces and the 
like, and forthwith she fell into a train of thought 
which, judging from her changing color and intro- 
verted expression of eyes, included many a subtle 
feeling not yet ripe for introduction to a cold 
world — least of all to a fashionable world. 

Suddenly her attention was attracted by voices 
from the other side of the heavy portieres which 
separated her from the adjacent “fitting room.” 

“It is charming, Miss Mary, but far too gay for 
me. Please take off* the silver brocade. I much 
prefer the simple white material with cord and tas- 
sels,” said one voice, which was followed immedia- 
tely by another and an expost ulati-ve one. 

“But, my love, it needs something to brighten 
it. Why should you dress so like a ghost — ” 

“ It suits me best, ma mere ; but — you shall have 
this gown made quite as you wish, dear.” 

The voice was sweet and as clear as a bell, 
while the brooding tenderness of the loving pro- 
test, suggested a great deal more than it said, to 
Margaret, who had great faith in the human voice 
as a reliable exponent of character. 


12 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


These voices, though muffled and subdued, stir- 
red Margaret strangely, and, without quite realizing 
what she was doing, she suddenly found herself lis- 
tening eagerly for the rest of the conversation and 
full of unaccountable impatience for the moment 
that should reveal the speakers ; but that time was 
not yet, for into the room where Margaret was 
lounging there fluttered a trio of Saratoga girls, 
filling the place with chatter and youthful enthus- 
iasm. “Oli, Kate! ” exclaimed one, “ Here is the 
very thing for you : pale green and perfect for your 
superb corals ! ” 

Kate Berkely, a tall, stately creature, with 
strongly marked features and an aristocratic bear- 
ing, glanced at the evening gown in question, and 
wondered if it was within her limitations — for, 
though being the only child of wealthy and doting- 
parents, she also possessed that peculiar and blessed 
quality of prudence, which so much more frequently 
accompanies fortune than mitigates poverty. 

Her companions at once became absorbed in an 
inspection of the garments displayed along the 
length of the handsome rooms, while she calmly 
and seriously discussed the green costume with 
Madame’s accommodating daughter. 

Margaret saw no immediate necessity for leaving 


AT THE DRESSMAKER’S. 


13 


her corner and so made no demonstration, though 
she knew all the girls well. 

“ Kate never loses her balance,” — was her quiet 
cogitation — “ I wonder, had I been the daughter of 
a distinguished Judge, able to live anywhere 
between here and Egypt, and travel all over the 
earth, if it would have turned me out one half as 
clever and level-headed as Kate Berkely 1 ” 

Half in indolence and half in mischief, for 
several minutes she sat, with amused eyes, peeping 
out from her retreat. 

Suddenly, in making the detour of the room, one 
of the trio, a sweet faced, golden-haired girl caught 
sight of her. 

“Margaret Selden ! ” she exclaimed. “ When did 
you get home and why in the world are you hiding 
away in corners? — a pretty way to treat us, I must 
say ! ” 

Whereupon Margaret arose to the occasion and 
greeted her friends, though still keeping watch over 
the closed portieres and hoping for a speedy appear- 
ance of “Miss Mary” and her customers. 

“ I have been in Saratoga but two days, Amy, 
and intended surprising you at your reception 
to-morrow, provided I can get a dress in time, for 
I came home in rags ! But oh, girls ! what a good 


14 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


time I have had.” Here Margaret sighed, with 
excessive if retrospective bliss. 

“Just think of being in a flannel gown from 
morning to night; out in all sorts of weather — 
without a thought or care about clothes, crimps or 
complexion! And above all, being treated like a 
sensible, useful creature by men as well as women. 
It was something like living, and I did hate to 
come back to hops and piazza-shows, they are so 
tame, after the out-door bracing life.” 

During this outburst Margaret had, of course, 
embraced Kate, Amy and her newly married friend, 
Grace Lincoln, all of whom had met at Madame 
Miller’s quite by accident. This ceremony per- 
formed, she resumed her favorite corner, with the 
benignly satisfied air of one who has not only ful- 
filled a duty, but indulged in a pleasure. 

“Well! I like that\ What made you come back 
and why are you in such a hurry for Miller gowns, 
receptions and all the rest of it, if you hate the 
whole business so? ” questioned pretty Amy, with 
a half offended air, as she scanned the browned 
skin of the yacht-struck maiden. 

“ Oh, Jeanne wrote such doleful letters and 
seemed to miss me so much, that I did not feel 
comfortable in staying away from her any longer. 
Once here, one must do as the Saratogians do. 


AT THE DRESSMAKER’S. 


15 


Kate, I thought you were at Lake George. The 
papers said so.” 

“Always believe the papers, my dear! I am at 
Lake George, practically — came doVn this morning 
to get a new gown for the next wedding. It is get- 
ting positively ruinous to try to keep up with Hy- 
men’s demands this season. Four swell weddings 
within a few days, you know, in June, and now 
another this month. I don’t see that there can be 
any more at present unless some new men are 
imported ; the marriagable male population is 
entirely appropriated, so far as my limited informa- 
tion goes, with the exception of the confirmed 
bachelors and two or three of Amy’s devotees. 
Amy — child — what is all this I hear about your 
wholesale conquests, this season. If you were not 
the very incarnation of goodness and benevolence, I 
should certainly think you a heartless siren. Con- 
fess now! Who is the favored knight, of all the 
brilliant line?” — and here Kate drolly struck an 
expectant attitude and looked at Amy, as if 
resolved to tease the truth out of her on the instant. 

Amy shrugged her plump shoulders and gave 
her curls a pretty toss — 

“I am much too busy looking out for the other 
girls to have any time for nonsense myself. But 
listen! let me give you a ‘straight tip’ on the 


16 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


average girl who comes to Saratoga. She means 
‘business’ and is ready to sacrifice any or all of 
her friends in getting what she is after, and that is 
— a rich husband.” 

“ They make it so plain to anybody wlio will take 
the trouble to watch them, that I wonder a man 
can be found stupid enough to believe in their show 
of sentiment. Why girls, I’ve tried, more than 
once, to find even one girl with some thing else in 
her mind ; I’ve only succeeded in — failing ! Times 
beyond number have I called on some particularly 
innocent-looking new-comers at the hotels, just 
because I thought they must find it stupid here — 
not knowing any one. I have invited them to 
receive with us and have introduced them to every- 
body I know. Will you believe me? just as soon as 
they knew a ‘working number’ of society men 
off they would go as independent as you please, 
with no more consideration for me and my plans 
than if I didn’t exist ! As far as the men go, it is 
all right — I have no use for any man that prefers 
other society — but I do get awfully tired of most of 
the girls who come here for a purpose!” 

Margaret jumped up, with a laugh and patted 
the indignant speaker affectionately, saying, “ You 
are quite right, Amy dear. They are positively 
sickening and it is maddening to see that style of 


N 


AT THE DRESSMAKER’S. 


17 


girl manoeuvre. Thank goodness, we don’t have 
more of them and they generally stay no longer 
than Saratoga mosquitoes. My ! how they would 
stare, if they could see you among your poor peo- 
ple. I wish I could paint a picture of you as you 
looked on the Fourth of July night, taking your 
Sunday school class home after giving them a jolly 
celebration. It was a sweet thing for you to do.” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! Why praise me ? Who spends 
hours on hours working for the ‘ Altar Society ’ 
and ‘ The Old Ladies’ Home ’ and ‘ St. Christina’s 
Home ’ and goodness only knows how many other 
societies and £ homes?’ That is what I call praise- 
worthy and what I never should have the patience 
for,” (looking affectionately at Grace Lincoln). 
“There is our bride now. What would become 
of us without her! What a mercy it is that she 
married a Saratogian !” 

Mrs. Lincoln’s reception of Amy Leighton’s flat- 
tering remarks was at once appreciative and modest. 
She had always been considered one of the most 
charming of the Saratogian girls, her husband was 
as popular as herself, and their new home was the 
headquarters for their large and delightful circle of 
friends. 

“ Thanks, my dear,” she answered brightly. “ I 
certainly am devoutly thankful for my ‘ marcies ’ 
2 


18 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


as the old woman said, not the least of which I 
count my not having to go away from this dear old 
town and all my lovely friends ; but tell me Margaret, 
what are you having made ? Something gorgeous ? ” 

“ Oh no, I leave Amy to carry off the splendors 
of this establishment and content myself with 
Miller’s more modest toilets. What has my dear 
little Jeanne been doing while I have been away ? 
I have not had time to hear about it from her yet, 
we are so occupied with guests. Has she behaved 
herself?” 

The three friends exchanged suggestive glances, 
but Margaret never got her answer, for just then the 
portieres were drawn aside and Margaret’s summons 
came. 

“ Good-bye girls, for to-day,” she said. “ I must 
not lose a moment,” while, greeting “ Miss Mary,” 
she hurriedly cast her eyes about the room she was 
entering and asked, with ill-concealed disappoint- 
ment in tone and inflection, “ Where are the people 
you have been fitting ? ” 

“ They preferred going out this way,” was the 
answer, with a gesture towards a door opening on to 
an inner hall, which led to the main entrance. 

Margaret ventured no further questions concern- 
ing them and the important operation of “ trying 
on” proceeded, without delay. 


AT THE DRESSMAKER’S. 


19 


As she stood before the long mirror, however, her 
mind was much more intent upon memories, which 
something about the sweet voice of the unseen 
stranger had stirred, tha ' upon the quiet elegance 
of the new gown, which so well set forth her dark 
beauty. 


I 


II. 

LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


“ The common problem, yours, mine and every one’s, 

Is not to fancy what were fair in life, 

Provided it could be— but, finding first 
What may be, then find how to make it fair 
Up to our means ; a very different thing! ” 



r^JHESE words from Browning, in well modu- 
lated tones and decidedly English accent, 
fell upon as varied and stony a ground 
as scriptural antiquity lays claim to. 

The reader’s voice was resonant and earnest, and 
through the vistas of chic bonnets, coquettish hats 
and uncovered heads, his face equally earnest as his 
voice — was occasionally visible. 

That he was Yankee born and Yankee bred — so 
long as his were, chiefly, associations with Cunard 
Steamers, Harvard University, the Charles river and 
Back Bay — was no obstacle to his acquisitions in 
the way of broad a’s and well turned r’s. That 
he gloried in possessing the entry to all classes of 
society, from the shadow of the Boston State House, 
to the privileges of the distant and conservative 
Carleton Club, Pall Mall, including all the great and 
20 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


21 


small schools of fishes sufficient unto themselves 
which do disport in the vast social waters between, 
in no wise diminished his hold upon this particular 
circle of pleasure-satiated, novelty-craving butter- 
flies who had imported him straight from the “ Hub” 
for the laudable purpose of introducing a new and 
more intellectual element into Saratoga Summer 
Society. 

His entree not having been limited to those fasci- 
nating circles of Athenian Bohemianism, where one 
may be swell and hilarious ; where clever men and 
women glory in utilizing their wits for their main- 
tainance and are accustomed to precincts where a 
combination of beer, smoke, orchestral music and 
refined social intercourse are not only a possibility 
but a reality, Richard Mannering Howard, was 
perhaps more of an enthusiast. Being, a man 
of culture, brains and experience, and, possess- 
ing, as he did, such a multitude of goodly gifts, 
with a portion of ducats sufficient for their proper 
maintainance, he felt no necessity for hesitating 
to use his well-trained and agreeable methods of 
speech and thought for the delectation, elevation 
and enjoyment of those who belonged, or thought 
they belonged to his particular ilk. 

Blanche Atherton was an enthusiast too. She had 
listened to the involved sentences, as they fell from 


22 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Howard’s lips, with an expression of puzzled intent- 
ness which was clearly indicative of the laudable 
and honest effort she was making to follow in the 
approved channels of poetic expression. That she 
found that enthusiasm impossible which others felt, 
or at least assumed to feel, caused her real pain and 
tormented her self-respect with doubts as to whether 
there was hypocrisy in her presence there and even 
in her attentive attitude. In some directions she 
felt herself equal to really good if not great things, 
but she also keenly felt the compass of her limita- 
tions. Now, poised on her mental tip-toes, in the 
reach and strain after unattainable heights — attrac- 
tive to her only because peopled by those she 
fancied ultra intellectual, she sought to hide her 
impatience as best she could and to sooth her 
bewildered and exhausted faculties with the sweet 
balms of superior companionship and such provi- 
dential glimpses of poetic revelation as might, under 
the circumstances, fall to her lot. 

Mrs. Habersham was another earnest listener. 
Indeed, she was nothing, if not earnest. Her 
stately figure and strongly beautiful face ; her keen 
insight into the multitudinous bearings of her 
world; her tact, philanthrophy and great wealth 
together with rare appreciation of the true and the 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


23 


admirable, placed her among the foremost of her 
sex, nolens volens. 

The “ Kensington,” where the reading was being 
given, was her favorite summer home and she never 
seemed more “ At Home ” in its drawing room, 
than on this summer morning, as, with her friends 
and associates about her, she presided over an 
assemblage as brilliant and distinguished as had 
ever been entertained in her magnificent Washing- 
ton house. 

She often said, “people make a place — not 
things,” and yet, while thoroughly honest in expres- 
sing this sentiment and consistent in reducing it to 
practice, she was never known to fail in paying 
careful attention to all details of comfort and ele- 
gance as well as social delights. 

While far beyond the carping criticism which so 
invariably distinguishes the questionably-placed and 
self-doubting aspirants to social recognition, Mrs. 
Habersham took honest pride in gathering about 
her only the men and women whose aims in life 
are high and purposeful. 

The necessity of judging between the real and the 
false, which falls most heavily upon women with 
families to protect from the undesirable, often 
forced her to draw the distinctive line where it 
would have been more agreeable to her to leave it 


24 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


subject to the pleasure and judgment of others, but 
Mrs. Habersham always acted upon strong as well 
as broad principles, and, on this especial occasion, 
she looked over the circle about her with pardon- 
able satisfaction in both its quantity and quality — 
modestly attributing much of her success in this 
new departure to the readers reputation and draw- 
ing power, rather than her own management. 

Almost unconsciously she nodded her head in 
cordial approbation of the poet’s sound philosophy, 
as the foregoing lines were read, and then fell to 
scrutinizing a quiet figure seated near her, whose 
face indicated absolute indifference, or an affectation 
of it. 

Closely and wonderingly she looked ; the expres- 
sion and pose were so ungirlish — so unnatural. 

Richard Mannering Howard continued his read- 
ing only to that golden moment which waits on 
expectancy and avoids satiety. Turning then to 
Mrs. Habersham he received her very cordial thanks 
as he shudderingly perceived Mrs. Lucretia Simmer- 
ton bearing down upon him in a toilette worthy of 
a too suddenly transplanted and only semi-civilized 
squaw. 

“Ye Gods! if Madam S., could see herself as 
others see her, just once ! ” he whispered. 

Mrs. Simmerton was one of those who adore the 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


25 


ostentatious, vulgarly mistaking it for elegance, but 
she was a kindly soul and arrayed herself in her 
heavy velvets and laces morning, noon and night, 
all through the season, with tireless effort to please, 
and asking no greater reward than the conventional 
piazza greeting and the amiable, if hypocritical, 
compliments of those who annually and willingly 
accepted her New York hospitality, even while 
whispering among themselves of her harmless pecu- 
liarities. 

w How beau — ti — fully you do read, Mr. Howard,” 
she said, shaking the cascade of springy curls on 
either side of the chalky, simpering face, as she 
kept her head vibrating from side to side, in coquet- 
tish salutation. 

“ But Browning does not tell us how to find out 
‘ what may be ’ does he ? ” 

“ I fancy that must be our own discovery, Mrs. 
Simmerton,” politely answered Mr. Howard — 
inwardly' reflecting upon the happy and immediate 
results to the person before him, if she only might 
be taught what a decent and altogether estimable 
creature she could be made, with appropriate set- 
ings and adornments. 

“ I care little for poetry, as you know, Dick ! ” 
broke in a bright ringing voice ; “ but I dote on 
your readings, though it seems odd enough to be 


26 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


listening to you here in Saratoga! It would not 
surprise me in the least to have Louise Chandler 
Moulton and ‘Jenkins 7 appear upon the scene, and 
I really feel as though Susan Hale cannot be far off 
and that five minutes walk would bring us to 
‘ Youngs. 7 I am realistic, as usual, you see 1 77 

Howard seized the elegantly gloved hand and 
looked with unconcealed admiration upon the per- 
fectly costumed figure and enthusiastic face. 

“ Don’t tell me you hate poetry, after that box of 
flowers you sent me when I was shut up last winter, 
Kate Worthington ! They were living poems and 
you — well, you are an inspiration in that gown. 77 

She was a queenly creature and womanly enough 
to be glad of it. She had had her crosses though — 
for some of her fellow Athenians, despairing of find- 
ing a flaw in her pedigree or social status, had taken 
to criticizing her “ superabundance of spirits 77 and 
her “fondness of dress. 77 Fortunately, however, 
such failed utterly in clouding the loving kind- 
ness of her great nature ; indeed, it is extremely 
doubtful if she ever realized their existence, but 
went on the even or uneven tenor of her busy way, 
giving many a lift to friends when “down 77 and- as 
a rule, calmly indifferent to the misapprehensions 
of those smaller natures which, of needs, must run 
in grooves or not run at all. 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 27 

Richard Mannering Howard had known her all 
his life and was manly enough to appreciate her 
thoroughly. As they exchanged home news and 
pleasant reminiscences, Mrs. Worthington suddenly 
inquired, “ Who is the aristocratic young woman 
just beyond Mrs. Habersham? ” 

Howard had to change his position to look in the 
direction referred to, and, on discovering the person 
in question he started, looked again — scanning the 
cold yet lovely face with absorbing attention — as 
he exclaimed, “ By Jove ! ” and slowly sank into a 
chair, without lowering his eyes. 

His manner bordered closely upon agitation 
and he did not seem to hear Kate Worthington’s 
questions, nor consider her evident amazement at 
his peculiar conduct — he could only sit bolt 
upright, staring at the girl who so unaccountably 
moved him. 

“ Richard, is this love or madness ? ” at last 
demanded his friend, tapping his relaxed hand with 
her fan. 

With a decided effort, he lowered his eyes, 
gathered himself together and said, “ Kate, be kind 
and help me to get out of this place. Say any- 
thing you like, in excuse for my sudden going and 
— let me see you this evening. I can't explain 
here.” 


28 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


“ Go quickly then,” she answered, with instant 
comprehension that it was no joking matter, “ or 
Miss Atherton will cut you off. I will see you 
when ever you please.” 

Giving him a gentle push toward the door, she 
turned to cover his retreat, just in time to receive 
Blanche Atherton, as she reached the spot she had 
been working toward ever since the close of the 
reading. 

It must be confessed that her heroic endurance, 
for the past hour, had not been for the purpose of 
greeting Mrs. Worthington, yet her cordial saluta- 
tion suggested nothing less complimentary. 

“ What a crowd ! I thought I never should 
reach you,” she said. “ Has it not been a great 
success? Has Mr. Howard gone? ” 

“Yes, poor fellow! I was afraid he would not 
pull through, for he was nearly wild with a nervous 
headache : a less self-controlled man would have 
disappointed Mrs. Habersham this morning.” 

Kate W orthington was thankful for the inch of 
fact that sustained her ell of fiction. “ Do you 
think people liked him?” she added — by way of 
ending that branch of the conversation. 

“ Oh yes ! every one seemed charmed with Mr. 
Howard, Mr. Howard’s voice, Mr. Howard’s man- 
ner, and — themselves ! Entres nous , Mrs. Worthing- 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


29 


ton, do yon think many people really enjoy Brown- 
ing? For myself, people like Mr. Howard and 
poets like Browning, make me feel like a fraud and 
a dissembler. I have no more right to smile and 
look happy, during such an hour as we have had 
this morning, than if Mr. Howard had been reading 
Sanscrit.” 

“ Nor I, according to your code, my dear, but it 
is the least of my troubles that I fail to compre- 
hend poetic flights, at times. I love the atmos- 
phere and should have been miserable if I could not 
have been here this morning. Don’t pull your dear 
honest soul to pieces too cruelly — any one that can 
sing as you can, is fit company for the Gods, 
cliildie — ” and Mrs. Worthington laid a caressing 
hand on Blanche’s flushed cheek as she turned from 
her to speak to Mrs. Marston. 

“ Do you suppose,” — began the latter — “ I can 
get Mr. Howard to stay over for my next recep- 
tion and give me a short reading, Mrs. Worth- 
ington ? I would cheerfully listen to the Constitu- 
tion of the United States, if that happened to be 
his choice. I never have heard a voice that was so 
appealing and restful.” 

“ I am so glad to have my old friend appreciated 
here in Saratoga, Mrs. Marston. Bostonians are 
fond and proud of him, of course. I am not sure 


30 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


what his plans are. He spoke of going to Bar 
Harbor again — he is quite the rage there, you 
know.” 

Just then Mrs. Habersham joined them. 

“ Do you think Mr. Howard can be prevailed 
upon to stay over Wednesday?” she asked, 
eagerly. 

“We mishear him again — why, where is he? ” 

Mrs. Worthington hastened to give the necessary 
explanations and message, and, as soon as she could 
bring it about, asked the name of the young woman 
whose presence seemed to have had such a startling 
effect upon Howard. 

“There she is, just going on the piazza — the 
most distinguished looking girl I have seen in 
Saratoga this year. Who is she ? ” 

“ A young friend of mine who is staying here 
with her mother, for the waters. They are 
southerners and spend their life in travelling over 
the earth in pursuit of health. 

“The father died three years ago, just after they 
went abroad and the only son was killed, soon 
after, in a theatre holacaust, in Italy. 

“ This poor girl is very delicate and nervous and 
greatly dislikes meeting people, — I was surprised to 
see her come into the rooms this morning, — I sup- 
pose she came to please her mother ; — By the way, 


LITERATURE AND PERPLEXITIES. 


31 


do you know that handsome white-haired woman, 
to whom Judge McHenry is speaking, Mrs. Worth- 
ington ? ” 

Kate smiled joyously as she discovered in the 
person pointed out, one of her own best friends. 

“ Is she not a beauty ? I coaxed her to come 
and hear Mr. Howard, though she is in deep mourn- 
ing. Let me introduce her to you.” 

Together they crossed the room and joined the 
popular and genial judge, whose pretty neice was 
carrying on a tremendous flirtation with three men 
at once, while a stately woman with snow-white 
hair, heavy black eye-brows and wonderful hazel 
eyes, sat in a comfortable chair near by, in close 
and earnest conversation with the distinguished 
legal light. 

There was the fascinating grace of a Yan Dyke 
portrait in the poise of her figure, as well as in the 
striking contrast of coloring and the high-bred 
features of Miss Scotts-Bardwell, as she sat — 
framed in deep mourning garb — holding the 
absorbed attention of her friend, by the power of 
her conversational and personal charm. 

Saratoga had been her favorite “ tonic ” ever 
since her childhood, and many were the romances 
of which she had been the inspiration ; but no one 
had succeeded in winning her, though there were 


32 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


tragedies and perhaps comedies in her life-history. 

Mrs. Habersham welcomed her with quiet 
warmth. “ Mrs. Habersham, I hope I am not an 
intruder. Mrs. Worthington has told me so much 
about Mr. Howard’s reading, that I was tempted 
into this corner, and I assure you I have enjoyed it 
very much,” apologized Miss Scotts-Bardwell, to 
the hostess of the morning. 

“You are most heartily welcome,” was the quick 
response. “ Indeed, I have no right to exclude any 
one from this public drawing-room, but if I had, you. 
never would be one of them. Perhaps Mrs. Sim- 
merton might, if she will insist upon such frightful 
apparel,” Mrs. Habersham added, sotto voce , as that 
worthy woman passed them, waving her second or 
third “ good bye.” 

More greetings, congratulations aud adieus fol- 
lowed closely upon each other, and soon the stream 
of would-be literary devotees was lost in the great 
rush and flow of the general crowd and then, the 
recently bustling and buzzing drawing-room of the 
Kensington was left to the soft play of light breezes 
and the brief hush of a summer mid-day hour. 


III. 


THE SECRET OF POWER. 


|ICHARD Mannering Howard reached the 
solitary and shadowed heights of Congress 
Spring Park, by the most direct route from 
the Kensington — down Circular Street to 
the upper entrance. 

Not being a stock-holder, boarding-house keeper, 
village official, newspaper man or clergyman, he 
found it necessary to pay his fee — a circumstance 
which was annoying only because it involved the 
necessity of his concentrating his mind upon a 
material subject, until he could fish out of his pocket 
the essential small coin. Having accomplished 
this important duty, he struck into the path which 
promised most seclusion and took posession of a 
settee, rather to save himself further exertion than 
from any expectation of gaining physical comfort, 
for he was not in a mental condition likely to be 
prelusive to any kind of repose. 

Why, he wondered, was he, reasonable, self-con- 
tained and calm as he usually had the right to con- 
8 38 


34 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


sider himself — so unnerved by the sight of a 
woman’s face ? Had he lived thirty-two well-con- 
ditioned and carefully guarded years — Boston years 
too, mainly — only to find himself, all at once, on a 
level with the most inexperienced and impression- 
able, of his sex ? 

Did force of habit, association and self-discipline 
count for nothing, generally, or was he — Kichard 
Mannering Howard — exceptionally lacking in all 
that goes to make a man strong, in time of trial? 

All these and many other thoughts and questions 
flooded his mind and turned the sweet summer 
murmurings of leaf, fountain, insect and bird life 
to jarring discord, for his over- wrought nerves. 

The still, cold face, despite his most manfully- 
determined efforts, rose vividly before him, cutting 
off all the uest of the world from his mental vision 
and giving him, in return, nothing but dull empti- 
ness and indefinable longings. 

As he carelessly scanned the couples and groups 
scattered here and there through the grounds, he 
wondered how many of them were either necessary 
to, or really happy with each other, and then found 
himself envying a thriftless-looking pair of rustics, 
who were evidently too ignorant either to simulate 
or conceal their awkward affection. 

Just below him wound a path which lay like a 


THE SECRET OF POWER. 


35 


ribbon on the side of the wooded hill, and led to the 
lower grounds, now bright with flower-beds, orna- 
mental shrubs and pleasant resting places. 

He could see pedestrians as they entered the path, 
just above him and again as they passed below — 
losing them in the curves of the slope, to have them 
sometimes reappear lower down. 

Among these apparently objectless strollers, was 
a man, who, with hat removed, the better to enjoy 
the fresh and perfumed air, sauntered slowly down 
the hill, bracing his tall and shapely figure against 
the somewhat sharp decline and evidently enjoying 
his surroundings in the fullest degree. 

“ He finds the world all right, I fancy — handsome 
fellow ! probably has everything his own way ; such 
men always do,” soliloquized Howard, envying the 
stranger’s tranquillity after a manner which would 
have been impossible to him at any former time in 
his life. 

As he reluctantly turned from this debonnaire 
saunterer, he glanced farther down, along one of the 
lower turns in the path, where his eyes rested upon 
a lithe figure which was making the easy ascent 
slowly and languidly, yet with a certain air of ever- 
present self-restraint. It was a willowy and youth- 
ful figure — but slightly rounded, of medium height, 
pronouncedly girlish, and still to a remarkable 


36 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


degree suggesting all that is best of that which is 
counted womanliness. 

The small head was set well upon the slender 
neck; the abundant brown hair lay in thick coils 
above the delicate ears and revealed an almost ideal 
forehead. 

More remarkable still, perhaps, were her deep, 
hazel eyes — so strangely weary and listless for one 
so young, and which, as she approached Howard, 
were bent aimlessly upon space, with the same 
expression of resigned and queenly indifference 
which he already knew so well. 

Half breathlessly, he marked the perfection of 
her shimmering white draperies which were undulant 
with elegancies of sweep and fold that no figure less 
graceful could have lent them. Nothing about her, 
however, was more pleasing than her modesty — so 
dignified and yet so unassuming and wonderfully 
enhanced by the chaste and unrelieved whiteness 
of her attire. The only touch of color about her 
was in the ripe delicacy of her lips, which trium- 
phantly proclaimed the ascendency of youth over 
physical and mental ills. The sunlight vainly 
endeavored to caress her pearly complexion into a 
betrayal of ruddy brightness, but it succeeded only 
in winning a responsive favor from the lurking gold 
in her hair, where it escaped the protection of a 


THE SECRET OF POWER. 


37 


white sun-shade which served the double office of 
hat and umbrella. 

Howard’s gaze increased its intensity. His 
slender hands closed, with quick nervous force, 
upon the inoffensive cane with which he had been 
playing. His dilating nostrils, flushed cheeks and 
whole attitude, evidenced concentrated watchful- 
ness, while his sensitive mouth and deep-set eyes 
revealed admiration and tenderness. A curious 
tremor ran over him, such as often emphasises the 
earnestness of reserved and strong natures. 

On she came, up the hill, with no modification of 
her slow but even steps ; looking above and be- 
yond her, with the eyes that disregard immediate 
surroundings. 

Hidden, for a moment, by a clump of shrubbery 
again her dress stood out in bold relief against 
the brilliant greens of grass and tree. 

Howard questioned his best course: to stay 
where he was and suffer the cold reception he had 
every reason to expect, or to move away from the 
path and prolong the pleasure of looking upon her. 
While he was weighing the matter, a sudden and 
dreadful change came over her. Her parasol fell 
from her hand — her eyes became fixed on some 
object as yet hidden from Howard’s sight, and her 
left hand clutched a rustic chair for support. 


38 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Another instant revealed the handsome stranger, 
whom Howard had already noticed, on his way 
down the same path which the girl was ascending 
and but a few paces from her. 

Before Howard could collect himself sufficiently 
to move, his astonishment changed into terror by 
seeing her totter and fall prone at the man’s feet. 

A leap down the bank brought him to her sense- 
less form as the stranger exclaimed, “ What is the 
matter? Has she fainted? What can we do?” — 
Howard’s first impulse was to turn upon him, as the 
cause of the trouble, but one glance at the noble and 
anxious countenance before him, disarmed his fears 
and suspicious. Together they lifted and carried 
the unconscious girl to the nearest available resting- 
place, which was a grassy bank under a neighbor- 
ing maple. 

As helpless as only two men could be, under 
such circumstances, they looked about them for 
assistance, but no one was in sight. 

At Howard’s suggestion, the stranger went in 
search of a physician, leaving him alone with the 
still white figure, which more closely resembled 
marble than anything living. 

Howard felt himself hardly tried by fate. Here 
in the midst of the prodigality of summer’s lovli- 
ness, lay the only woman who had ever touched 


THE SECRET OF POWER. 


39 


his heart deeply, and he did not know whether she 
would ever stir again or not. No human being 
was in sight. They were together, yet as much 
divided as if the Universe lay between them. 

On the one hand, be could have wished every 
moment a year — on the other, his great fear for her 
life made each second an age of agony. 

How beautiful the pure sweet face was, as it 
rested against the bank ! 

Footsteps suddenly broke the silence and ended 
Howard’s ruminations. He hastened to meet who- 
ever was approaching, by this time being fairly 
desperate with anxiety and fear. 

A tall, middle-aged woman, with the unmistak- 
able air of an old family servant, came swiftly across 
the grass toward him, and, catching sight of the 
prostrate figure, passed him with a respectful bow, 
exclaiming : “ My poor Missie ! Did you see her fall, 
sir? We did not know she was in the Park until 
a moment ago and 1 hurried right after her, for she 
has looked real poorly for the last week or two. 
Just as I came from the spring I heard a gentle- 
man telling some one who was just driving off*, 
where he would find a doctor and I asked him if 
any body was hurt. When he said ‘ a young lady 
had fainted, in the grounds,’ I mistrusted right off 
it was my ‘poor dear,’ and sure enough it is! 


40 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Thank yon very much sir — I ain’t a bit scared. 
She has these spells every now and then and I 
know just what to do for her.” All the while she 
was talking, she was kneeling by her mistress and 
administering restoratives, which she took from a 
tidy, black silk bag that hung at her waist. 

“ She isn’t strong enough to walk so far, in the 
heat of the day — ” she continued, as she deftly 
bathed the white hands and tenderly rearranged 
the still unconscious form. 

“ There now ! she will soon come to — please sir, 
did I not see you in Italy ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Howard — “ I remembered you, 
as soon as I saw you, but I had no idea Mrs. and 
Miss Campbell were in this country, until an hour 
ago. How shall we get her home ? Shall I go for 
a carriage ? ” 

“ Oh, no, thank you, sir. I can manage alone, 
when she gets over this turn — and — please sir, I 
think she wouldn’t like anybody but me to be by, 
when she comes to — she is very easy upset, sir, 
you see — and I have taken care of her since she 
was knee high to nothing — so I know mostly, 
what to do.” 

Howard, respecting the woman’s foresight, only 
waited to give her his card, with the injunction to 
present his compliments to both the ladies. More 


THE SECRET OF POWER. 


41 


he dared not venture. If they wished him to come 
to them, they would make it known. lie quite 
congratulated himself upon still possessing even 
that^much pride and self-respect. 

So he left them — going across the Park and out 
of the main entrance, towards the “States,” after 
first leaving word at the office that, if a physician 
should arrive, in search of the young lady who bad 
fainted, to tell him, and the gentleman who would 
be with him, that she had been cared for, and to 
give his card to both of them. 

It is safe to say, that Howard was but a poor 
companion at dinner that day, and whatever 
became of him between three o’clock and eight, he 
never told a soul. 

It is certain that he was not on the Avenue, nor 
at the lake, nor did Mrs. Worthington catch a 
glimpse of him, until he touched her shoulder, as 
she sat in a corner of the “ State’s ” piazza, after sup- 
per, surrounded by a gay party. 

“ Will you take a turn with me, Kate ? ” he 
said, quietly. 

She could always il manage ” for a friend, and it 
did not take her long to make every one under- 
stand that she “ needed a little constitutional ” for 
she “ never got half enough exercise in Saratoga,” 
and off they went, together. 


42 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


What Kate Worthington wa^ told, during the 
next hour, shall be held sacredly her secret, for the 
present. 

When it was time to bid Howard “good night ” 
she looked very womanly and sympathetic. He 
still lingered a moment in silence; then she 
whispered, “ I begin to understand why you can 
make your readings so telling, Hick — people must 
suffer, before they can touch others.” 


I Y. 


PUZZLING AGITATION. 

Beatrice Campbell opened her eyes, 
the Park, she was dazed and terri- 
I. Regarding her old nurse, Mason, 
h a perplexed stare, she put her 
hand to her head, as if trying to recall something, 
glancing about her, at the same time, with evident 
dread as she gasped — 

“ Where is he ? Has he gone ? ” 

“Mr. Howard? Yes Missie ; he was afraid of 
troubling you by staying. Are you better ? ” 

“ Mr . * Howard! ” she exclaimed ; and then — sup- 
pressing an involuntary question, with considerable 
effort, she changed the subject by asking : “ When 
did you come, Mason? Did I faint again? I 
thought I had outgrown that stupid habit. Take 
me home. I can walk now.” 

Leaning heavily upon Mason’s arm, the still 
trembling girl started on her way back to the 
Kensington. 

“ Why did you not call me to come with you, 
dear Missie ? ” questioned Mason. “ I was all ready 

43 



44 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


and waiting and you know your Mamma does not 
like me to leave you go alone.” 

“ I felt like being alone, Mason. Do not say any- 
thing to Mamma about my fainting. It will only 
worry her, without doing any good. Stop a minute ; 
I must rest.” 

They seated themselves on a bench near at hand, 
remaining there for some little time, until Beat- 
rice regained sufficient strength to start again, dur- 
ing which interval the girl’s furtive and anxious 
glances over the Park, in a way so unlike her usual 
indifference, filled Mason with alarm. 

While resting, Beatrice said : “ I do not think 
Saratoga agrees with me, Mason. I am no stronger 
than I was at the sea-'shore, and — the crowd tires 
me. I think we will try the mountains if Mamma 
is willing. Can you pack everything by to-mor- 
row morning ? ” 

“Yes, Missie, but what shall I do about this 
card ? Mr. Howard told me to give it to your 
Mamma.” 

Beatrice took the card, regarding the name and 
address with compressed lips and increasing pallor. 
“Where did you see Mr. Howard, Mason?” she 
asked, at length, without looking up. 

“He was looking about for some one to help 
you, after you fainted, Missie. Poor young man ! 


PUZZLING AGITATION. 


45 


he was as white and a deal more miserable looking 
than you was : not being used to fainting spells, 
most likely, he was frightened most to death.” 

As Beatrice made no answer, Mason continued 
with, “ I remembered seeing him in Italy and, if I 
hadn’t had my hands full, bringing you to, it would 
have been real pleasant to see a familiar face, 
among so many strange ones. Mighty queer, 
though, that he should turn up, here in America, 
just in time to catch you — wasn’t it, Missie ? Do 
you remember seeing him before you fainted 
away ? ” 

Mason’s suspicions were aroused that the swoon 
had been caused by something more than mere 
weakness. With the privilege of an old and valued 
servant, she talked on hoping to glean some infor- 
mation, but she met with no encouragement from 
her young mistress, who seemed to be entirely 
absorbed by her thoughts. 

At length, rising as suddenly as her weakness 
permitted, she took Mason’s arm and they continued 
their return to the hotel. As they were about enter- 
ing, Beatrice said, “I will keep the card. You need 
not say anything to Mamma about it.” 

Still Mason noticed her air of excitement and 
wondered at the sigh of relief which escaped her as 


46 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


she stepped inside her own parlor and threw her- 
self on the lounge. 

Books, pictures and bric-a-brac were scattered 
here and there in home-like fashion. Hard to 
please, indeed, would have been the one who could 
find fault with the handsome appointments of that 
luxurious suite of rooms, but Beatrice covered her 
face with her hands and gave no heed to her sur- 
roundings. “Let me rest a while,” she said to 
Mason — “ and then call Mamma.” 

******** 

An hour later, Mrs. Campbell came in from Mrs. 
Habersham’s apartments and found her daughter 
sitting idly by the window, with an open book lying 
in her lap. She was looking out into the tree tops 
and was not aware of her mother’s presence until 
she felt a kiss upon her forehead, when she turned, 
with a smile, to greet her. 

“ What have you been doing since you left me, 
dearie? I stayed too long with Carrie Habersham 
and we are late for dinner. Why, Beatrice! are 
you ill?” 

“Ho, Mamma : only tired. I went into the park 
and suppose I walked too far. Don’t dress for din- 
ner ; you are all right, as you are. Sit down and 
talk with me for a little while. Do you know, 
dear, I fancy Saratoga is not quite bracing enough 


PUZZLING AGITATION. 


47 


for me. Would you very much mind trying the 
mountains for a while? ” 

Mrs. Campbell sat down by Beatrice and took 
both her hands in her own, as she looked intently 
at the beloved face. 

“ You are ill, my darling,” she said, quickly and 
anxiously. ‘‘Your cheeks are flushed, your pulse 
is high and I am sure you are feverish. What is 
the matter.” 

“ Nothing, ma mere — don’t worry. I was foolish 
to start out at mid-day for a walk ; but the Park 
looked so cool and inviting that I could not resist 
the temptation. 

“ Do let us get up among the forests and hills. I 
want to live out of doors more. I shall be all right 
as soon as I can look off over the valleys and smell 
the pines. Why may we not go to-morrow ? ” 

Then with quick loving gesture she turned to her 
mother, saying, in an altogether different tone, 
“ Poor Marmsie — how selfish it is in me to drag you 
away from your beloved Kensington, your waters 
and Mrs. Habersham! You see you have quite 
spoiled me, dearest ; but I will not say another 
word about going away. I dare say I am quite as 
well here as I shall be any where — so forgive me 
and kiss me again.” 


48 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


But this heroic determi cation was at once nipped 
in the bud by Mrs. Campbell. 

“Dear child,” she said, “let us go, by all means. 
We can try Elizabethtown for awhile, and then 
come back here, if we choose. What does it matter 
where we are, if you are only well and happy. Ob, 
do try and be both, for my sake.” 

Beatrice returned her mother’s solicitous embrace 
with clinging tenderness. For a moment she acted 
as if she wished to make a confession, or give way 
to some impulse born of strong feeling, but, on 
second thought, she controlled herself and all she 
said was : — “ Ma mere, we are everything to each 
other and — I am trying.” 


V. 


AN ACCIDENT. 

* HERE had been an unusually brilliant succes- 
sion of festivities, ranging from elegant cot- 
tage hospitality, to varied social outbursts 
in the hotels and Congress Spring Park. 
Nearly every day had been crowded to surfeit 
from early July to mid-September. But all good 
things ultimately come to an end and the gay Sara- 
toga season was now closing — and, like a summer’s 
day in the Alps, it was “ closing in color.” 

The garden party at the “Grand Union” had, in 
every sense, climaxed the glittering, festive parade, 
and now, like arrows eager to be sped, beaux and 
belles, intriguing mammas and purse-proud papas, 
had hied themselves away to the autumn resorts, 
and sensible people were left at last to enjoy the 
peculiar and satisfying charms of the “ Great Spa,” 
in the golden haze and mellowness of late Septem- 
ber and its balmy sister-month, October. 

But this exodus had not, by any means, included 
all the lovers of fun and frolic; there was, still, 
among the more grave and thoughtful, many an 
4 49 


50 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


irrepressible “cutter-up” of social “ high jinks.” 

Now and then, too, there was — stranded here in 
some unaccountable way — a rapid-pated dude ; a 
creature willing enough to be gay and entertaining, 
but lacking the necessary brains to carry the wil- 
lingness into effect. Here too, were bronzed and 
vigorous artists caught on the home stretch from 
a summer’s sketching tour among the northern 
woods : delightful addenda to social life. 

One morning, at the inception of this quieter sea- 
son, the early light fell brightly upon a young girl, 
as she half sat and half reclined in a well-appointed 
village cart. Her hands held the reins with a 
proper degree of firmness and she guided her high- 
stepping cob with the skill of correct training and 
much experience, past the North Broadway cottages 
and into Woodlawn Park. 

Her whole attention, however, seemed to be cen- 
tred upon her companion, who was slightly her 
senior and a striking contrast to her in form, feat- 
ures, complexion and bearing. 

“Margaret, I have promised and I must go,” 
said the fair driver, and then, arousing herself, her 
indolent attitude was suddenly changed for one of 
energetic uprightness and her blue eyes eagerly 
questioned the serious face beside her. 


AN ACCIDENT. 


51 


“ Don’t you like me to go ? ” she asked, half 
wistfully. 

A pause followed. The listener seemed inclined 
to ignore or repulse both question and questioner ; 
but the face of the first speaker betokened a fixed 
purpose, and, after a searching glance at her silent 
companion, she added, “ I cannot imagine why you 
are always annoyed when I go out with Stephen 
Westland. There is no love lost between you two 
certainly, and so it can’t be jealousy ” she declared 
archly and with a gleam of mischief. 

Margaret Selden started and answered quickly : 
“ Jealousy! No, I loath the man! I cannot make 
you understand how much it distresses me to see 
any intimacy between you and him. His very 
charm of manner fills me with dread, for it increases 
the danger of his influence over you. Jeanne, dear ! 
trust me in this matter. I have said but little, hop- 
ing that he would soon weary of this quiet cottage 
life and go away. I never meet him if I can avoid 
it — I’d rather see a snake ! Smooth, plausible, sel- 
fish, heartless and — yes — wicked as I believe him 
to be, how can I endure to see him hanging about 
you, my dear Jeanne. He is clever enough to de- 
ceive the very elect ! ” 

The girl in her earnestness had seized Jeanne’s 
arm. Her voice was full of deep indignation and her 


52 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


face like iron in its over- wrought intensity. No 
trace of the ease-loving Margaret of our former 
acquaintance remained, in the set expression of 
her curled lips and the scornful light of her eyes. 

Her friend regarded her with blank amazement. 
“ Why, Madge ! how can you say such dreadful 
things of one so kind and considerate as Mr. West- 
land always is ! ” 

Margaret moved impatiently. 

“Jeanne,” she said, “you are just the girl to 
bring joy and pride to a man’s heart and home, and 
why can’t you like Arthur Graham? There is a 
man that I would be perfectly contented to see you 
marry. A man of honor and as tender and deli- 
cate as a woman. Intellectual — serious in his life 
work, and well enough placed to satisfy any one. 
He adores you and is worth a million Westlands ! ” 
Here Margaret suddenly looked off, over the 
hills and intervening slopes stretching out before 
them, and so did not observe the expression of 
Jeanne’s face. She only heard the quiet answer, 
which came through lips upon which a smile 
hovered. 

“No one but yourself ever did me the honor to 
dedicate Mr. Graham so entirely to my service : — 
but, Madge, will you not go with me this evening 


AN ACCIDENT. 


53 


to Mrs. Marston’s? You might sacrifice yourself 
to that extent, dear ! ” 

They were now speeding out of the southern exit 
from the Park, and, swiftly passing the handsome 
Clement Avenue row, soon drew up before one of 
the loveliest of the summer residences. 

Jeanne threw the reins to the waiting groom, 
jumped lightly out upon the steps and then, turn- 
ing with a quick movement, laughingly cried, “I 
won’t let you out, Madge, until you promise ! ” 

As she stood, with one pretty foot on the step of 
the cart and the other on the piazza floor, her golden 
hair gleaming in the sunlight, her eyes laughing a 
protest against her friend’s sombre resentment, and 
her lightly poised figure barring the latter’s way, 
the horse — impatient for his stable — suddenly 
started, throwing both girls off their balance and 
hurling Jeanne violently against an iron hitching- 
post. 

With a sharp cry of terror, Margaret threw out 
her hands to save Jeanne, but without avail. She 
had fallen prostrate and her fair head lay motion- 
less upon the stone steps. 

A moment later the horse was stopped and Mar- 
garet hurried back, where tender hands were carry- 
ing into the cottage the apparently lifeless form of 
Jeanne Langley. 


VI. 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 

UESTS were fast filling the imposing and 
Inlv^ elegant home of Mrs. Marston and the 
mi hostess was eagerly and anxiously scrutiniz- 
ing each new arrival while according to 
each a courteous and cordial welcome. 

Not far from her were Judge McHenry and his 
wife, surrounded by a group whose faces were 
equally familiar: one of the legal gentleman’s 
attendant satellites was a political leader of renown 
recently elected to a high position of public trust. 
His urbane countenance now made familiar all over 
the country by the combined agencies of transpar- 
encies and the illustrated press, was now beaming 
with unconcealed admiration upon dark-eyed smil- 
ing Mrs. Hinton, who was resplendent in a Worth 
costume, a charming study in dazzling whiteness, 
superbly accented by diamonds in her hair, and by 
the same gems and an accompaniment of pearls and 
white roses at her corsage. 

Just beyond them, a noted general, a scarred and 
battle- worn veteran of the late war and the hero of 
54 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 


55 


many a personal conflict, as well, was bolding a 
small court of old and flew friends, among whom were 
Mrs. Worthington, admirably arrayed in a toilette 
of green and white; Mr. and Mrs. Kalian, who are 
the envy of many less happy couples and the admir- 
ation of all ; Mrs. Ely and her two popular sons ; 
Captain McNight and his queenly wife ; Grace 
Atherton, in a light blue toilette, which added just the 
needful coloring to her rather too fair complexion ; 
gallant Colonel Washington, whose coolness and 
bravery had saved the life of a trio of friends, a few 
evenings before, when threatened with complete 
demoralization from run-away horses, and scores of 
other well-known personages, including the Leigh- 
tons, the Berkleys, the Lincolns and Mrs. Haber- 
sham, whose handsome husband was with her. 

A clever writer of books and songs who, though 
still youthful, had already borne two husband’s 
names, including the title of baroness, stood a little 
to Mrs. Marston’s right, deep in conversation with 
a society man whose name has become synonomous 
with defunct dude-dom, yet who deserves a higher 
place in the estimation of his fellow-men, being 
really a man of keen wit, better taste than he always 
shows, and kindly feeling. Mrs. Mannering and a 
trio of neighboring cottagers were discussing a 
charitable plan for swelling the “ Home of the Good 


56 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Shepherd” fund, while a critical group of jeunesse 
doree, mostly Trojans, stood before a French win- 
dow, inspecting the arrivals and indulging in gos- 
sip. 

Cottagers, residents and hotel guests continued 
to swell the throng and yet the hostess remained 
at her post. 

The clock in the hall struck the half hour after 
ten before her waiting was rewarded. Across the 
room came a man, bowing right and left as he 
made his way to Mrs. Marston’s side. 

Her reception of him was almost imperious. 

“ Why are you so late ? ” she demanded. “ You 
know I depended on you.” 

“ My dear Agnes,” he answered, “I could hardly 
make up my mind to come at all. Have you not 
heard? Miss Langley was thrown from her cart 
this morning, was seriously injured and is now 
dangerously ill. Miss Selden does not leave her a 
moment and Mrs. Maxwell is half beside herself 
with anxiety.” 

Mrs. Marston regarded the grave, earnest face, so 
like her own, with a curious expression and 
answered in a low tone and with peculiar coldness, 

“ How very sad ! I had not heard. But — may 
I ask — why should Miss Langley’s condition inca- 
pacitate you for coming to my house, Stephen ? ” 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 


57 


Her keen dark eyes scrutinized him sharply 
while her color slightly deepened. It would have 
been hard for an on-looker to have determined 
whether she loved or hated the man before her. 

He straightened his tall figure, folded his hands 
behind him and returned her look with one equally 
intent. The under-current of strong feeling was 
carefully veiled in both and the forced- calm of 
conventional courtesy rested upon both faces, but 
they both realized the tension of nerve which 
accompanies suppressed emotion. 

She waited his answer but a moment. 

“ Miss Langley is very dear to me, Agnes — ” his 
tone was deep and tender — “ I am both shocked 
and anxious. Is it strange then that I do not 
relish this gaiety ? „ 

Impressed with his apparently unexpected 
frankness, she regarded him curiously. 

“I am afraid you are in earnest, Stephen, but is 
it quite safe? ” she said, constrainedly. 

“ As safe as being in love ever is! ” he answered, 
with an emphatic shrug of his broad shoulders. 
u She has never given me any rights beyond the 
merest friendship,” he added, “ but — I wish you 
would let me off to-night. This sort of thing is 
frightfully out of tune with my thoughts and feel- 
ings, dear.” 


58 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


“And What About Elsie?” was Mrs. Marston’s 
sudden question, as the stern doubting expression 
came back into her eyes. Then she started back a 
little, for she seemed to have touched an unfortunate 
chord which caused him to turn almost fiercely 
upon her. 

“ Why call up that old pain, Agnes ? ” he cried 
passionately, after a moment’s conflict with him- 
self. 

She hesitated, apparently not knowing what 
answer to make, and by so doing lost the oppor- 
tunity of answering at all, for guests claimed her 
attention and Stephen Westland made the most of 
this providential interposition by instant flight. 

Out into the night he passed, throwing himself 
upon a seat at the shadowed end of the long piazza. 

The clear September moon illumined the 
ground and its flickering light fell through the vine 
leaves upon the floor beside him. 

The sound of music and the murmur of voices 
came in a subdued way from the ball-room, and he 
caught frequent glimpses of the figures of the 
dancers as they glided over the floor. 

“It is all so pitiful,” he muttered. 

“ Poor little Jeanne, lying bruised and fevered, in 
her darkened room — indifferent alike to life and to 
me; and with that proud distant Miss Selden, 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 


59 


whose every look seems to resent my very exis- 
tence ; what can make that girl hate me so? ” 

It was a question he had asked himself a 
hundred times. He wondered whether any other 
man had ever found this life so tangled — and then 
his mind went back to the days when, hardly out 
of college, he had yielded to his mother’s wishes 
and the wiles of a dark-eyed daughter of the South 
— a soft, purring, radiantly beautiful and passionate 
creature, irresistible in her tropical intensity. The 
force of her nature had, for a few short months, 
chained him to her; then came alternate heights of 
ecstacy and depths of unhappiness — followed by 
gradations of doubt and misery — until the climax 
came which left him still a boy in years, but 
prematurely aged with the disgust and weariness of 
a disappointed man. 

His nature had been noble in its ambitions and 
tastes, and hers, selfish, narrow and unprincipled. 

Soon tiring of her boy-husband and of domestic 
life, she had thrown off all restraint — deserting him 
for companions and scenes more congenial to her 
sordid soul. 

He now, once more, sadly reviewed the grief and 
unavailing regret of his gentle mother, who, shocked 
by the wreck her mistaken influence had made of 
her son’s happiness, had yielded her frail hold upon 


60 A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 

life, leaving Stephen sole guardian of his sister 
Agnes. 

His eyes grew dim as he recalled that dying 
scene — now so far back in the past — and the con- 
fidence and love she had then given him such proof 
of. In return, he had promised to carefully guard 
his young sister and to have patience with his 
head-strong reckless brother. 

“Is she content with me now? ” he wondered — 
lifting his eyes heavenward. 

From the day of her death, Stephen had devoted 
himself to Agnes until another day, now three years 
ago, when she had married. 

Mark had roamed the world over since his 
mother’s death, using his money to his own and 
other people’s destruction, but seldom crossing either 
his brother’s or sister’s path. 

Agnes was a child of fourteen when Stephen 
made his mad marriage and was unsophisticated 
enough then to be completely fascinated by her 
beautiful sister-in-law. When the latter disap- 
peared, the reason was carefully concealed from the 
innocent girl, and there had always lingered in her 
heart a feeling of tenderness for the absent one, 
which a morbid sensitiveness and sense of chivalry 
on Stephen’s part, had allowed to remain undis- 
turbed. 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 


61 


She had occasionally heard of “Mrs. Westland” 
as being here and there, in European centres of 
gaiety, and, without comment or explanation, had 
always blamed her brother more than she did his 
wife for their separation. 

Matters had gone on in this way for years and it 
was without Agnes’ knowledge that the wanderer 
had died, in a strange land and among strangers. 

Such a feeling had grown up between Stephen 
and Agnes on this subject, that he had never spoken 
of his wife’s death ; not realizing what might result 
from his silence. Now, for the first time since his 
freedom had come to him he realized that bis sister 
had a right, while supposing him a married man, to 
consider him terribly in the wrong in thinking of 
any woman’s love, and an appreciation of this had 
first stung him when the sudden and scornful ques- 
tion, “ What about Elsie? ” was asked. 

Alone there, in the night, his cheek flushed as 
his sensitive soul was filled with a conception of the 
thoughts which must have forced that tone and 
question. 

Starting to his feet, with the determination of 
finding her and explaining everything without 
further delay, he hurried into the house, but only to 
be taken possession of by an old friend of his 
mother’s, whose name had always been a house- 


62 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


hold word bat whose face he now saw for the first 
time, as she seized bis hand, when he was passing 
her. 

“ My dear boy, how like your mother you are ! 
Much more so than when I saw you before. By the 
way, why in the world did you not come back and 
speak to me that time, at the Bodneys’? I was 
really quite hurt.” 

“ j Rodneys' ! ” he exclaimed. “ Where is that? ” 

“ Tut, tut, dear boy, don’t try to hoodwink me 
in that fashion — Mrs. Kodney introduced you as 
our dear old schoolmate’s son and you bowed and 
said your mother had often spoken of Mrs. Jameson 
as one of her dearest friends — -just then some one 
called you off and you left, promising to return 
immediately — but I never saw you again until this 
moment! A very shabby way to treat an old 
woman ! ” she concluded, half in jest and half in 
earnest. 

Stephen was in no bantering mood and could 
hardly decide what to make of the kindly old soul’s 
declaration, but he begged her pardon as the easiest 
way out of a puzzle not sufficiently interesting to 
inquire into then, afterward offering to escort her 
home to her hotel, since he could see no way of 
avoiding so doing. 

The garrulous old dame accepted his escort 


INOPPORTUNELY CALLED AWAY. 


63 


gladly, “ pinning ” him for an extra half hour, after 
reaching the Windsor, and only leaving him free 
when it was too late to return to his sister’s cottage. 

Then he slo wly retraced his steps to the “ States ” 
where his rooms promised the seclusion his mood 
sought, but even this boon was denied him. As 
he entered the hotel the night clerk handed him a 
telegram. 

“ L^homme propose mais — ” The telegram called 
him to New York, on the next train; all he had 
time for, before going, was to write a hurried note 
to his sister, explaining his sudden departure and 
begging her confidence in him, during his short 
absence. 


VII. 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS. 


|LANCHE Atherton pronounced Mrs. Mars- 
ton’s ball stupid. To admit the truth, she 
cared but little for balls in general, being of 
that order of young woman-hood which 
takes more kindly to long tramps than to short 
steps, be the music for the latter ever so enticing. 

Perhaps her German education was responsible 
for her so-called “ odd” tastes, for, though born in 
Boston, the most important years of her life had 
been passed in Dresden, with occasional stays in 
Southern Europe. Much of her experience had 
been among ultra -musicians and over-idealistic 
artists — her father having been devoted to them as 
patron and connoisseur — and her one gift and passion 
— music — had thus been fostered and cultivated, 
until it threatened to over-balance and warp her life 
by exciting a restless craving for what she had not 
been disciplined to attain. 

Whatever lack of mental power she now suffer- 
ed from, was probably more the result of unsys- 
tematic training, than natural inheritance: at all 
64 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS. 


65 


events, Blanche Atherton was possessed of a gentle 
tender heart, which was incapable of mealiness or 
arrogance, and an intuitive grasp of the sweetest 
side of human nature, which drew under her in- 
fluence the unpopular as well as the favorites in her 
world. There was, also, about her, an element of 
puritan uprightness, easily traceable to the colonial 
governor, whose portrait looked down upon the 
various Atherton gatherings in their old Boston 
dining-room, which kept her at variance with 
many conventionalities, but true to the honest 
dictates of her proud spirit in all essentials. 

She came to Saratoga this first season after a five 
years’ absence, because the aunt, under whose care 
she had been since her father’s death, could no 
more exist without the waters and treatment in 
summer, than she could without the Mount Vernon 
street home in Boston, and the many peculiar ad- 
vantages growing out of that starting point in 
winter. 

Blanche found it no sacrifice to adjust herself to 
the pleasant home-life of the Strong Institute — 
though a “Remedial Institute” in name and fact, 
the atmosphere was cheerful and the “ invalids ” 
hard to be discerned from the other guests. In the 
evenings there was always something interesting 
provided in the pleasant drawing-room which her 
5 


66 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


aunt, Mrs. Adams, was wont to estimate as “ almost 
equal to our home advantages, you know,” which, 
of course, was a great concession. 

Some of her young friends who always summered 
at the large hotels on Broadway, considered it “ a 
pity that poor Blanche was so far out of the way of 
everything!” but “ poor Blanche” counted it as one 
of her “ mercies ” that she had found a refuge from 
the sort of girl who is never happy unless on ex- 
hibition, and she never lacked good company, even 
if she was deprived of omnipresent orchestral back- 
ground. 

When Bichard Mannering Howard came into her 
horizon, first in London, then in Boston and now in 
Saratoga, she recognized in him qualities which she 
missed in most men of his age. 

Her artistic sensibilities were alertly conscious 
of the superior timbre of his voice, and it required 
no particular intellectual effort to be soothed and 
exalted by the magic power of his finished and 
subtle art. Her aristocratic tendencies, too, were 
satisfied by his easy dignity and his repose of man- 
ner; more than this, she had not yet realized or 
considered. 

She had not been able, thus far, to enjoy many 
of his readings, simply because their internal char- 
acter was a little without the pale of her line of 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS. 


67 


thought and investigation, but the considerable 
heights which she had attained in the pursuit of 
her musical studies, made her zealous in the en- 
deavor to broaden her capacities in all worthy ways, 
and spurred her on to the acceptance of those 
among other “opportunities” for culture. 

Certain it is, that she never lacked “partners,” 
however keenly she felt her limitations ; but then, 
a young woman of family, fortune and amiability, 
never does lack companionship. Her enemies were 
those which envy and malice generated, and they 
accused her of being “too independent” in her 
associations and methods. They were ' shocked 
because she would travel alone, whenever she con- 
sidered it necessary, and were equally horrified at 
her managing her own business affairs, and making 
her own plans, without the assistance of a maid or 
companion. 

Some times an old friend would venture to quote 
some of these criticisms for Blanche’s benefit, but 
she had a bright, cheery way of setting aside all 
interference and leaving herself as free as before. 

Her happy temperament, furthermore, tended to 
the putting aside of unpleasant things, and she was 
quite willing to make allowances for the misunder- 
standings which arose between herself and those 


68 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


who knew her as little as they knew the unique 
atmosphere in which she had grown up. 

Dropping into Miss MacColTs little glove-shop, 
the morning after the ball, she found Mrs. Worth- 
ington revelling in the treasures of the place. 

If there was one personal charm of which Blanche 
Atherton found the possession a constant satis- 
faction, it was her hand. Artists had moulded and 
painted it ; admirers had expatiated upon its taper 
fingers, almond-shaped nails and exquisite coloring 
while her girl friends had, some times, so pointedly 
emphasized their admiration of those dainty mem- 
bers, as to suggest an undervaluation of her other 
personal attributes. 

It followed, naturally, that — not being obliged to 
deny herself luxuries — she should indulge ad infin- 
itum in the importations of the MacColl establish- 
ment, and it was counted one of her peculiarities 
that she lingered long over the selection and fit of 
her gloves, to the better enjoy the glimpses of 
human nature, which so popular a rendezvous 
offered. 

It was “such fun” to see bashful boys buy 
gloves for “ philopenas ” ; gay young husbands 
order “ dozens” for their brides, and careful matrons 
make selections for their numerous daughters, to 
say nothing of the exaggerated carelessness of the 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS, 


69 


gilded youth of the resort, who strove to impress 
their importance upon all within hearing, by their 
lavish display of voice, swagger and extravagance. 

Blanche was as generous to her friends as to her- 
self, and many were the packages of gloves which 
delighted them on the slightest excuse for her 
making a demonstration of affection. 

This morning she went into the shop especially 
to find Mrs. Worthington, whose presence there had 
been reported to her by a mutual friend. 

“Look at me, Blanche, dear, and behold a 
martyr that is forced to make a dozen gloves last a 
whole year, and then fancy my feelings when I see 
such fortunate creatures as Mrs. Worthington and 
you buying them like postage stamps ! Oh, dear ! 
why was I not born rich as well as handsome!” 

Blanche was regaled at this dramatic outburst 
on the corner of “ Phila,” street and Broadway, 
and she laughed merrily at the absurd pose struck 
by the speaker — a droll little maiden with unlim- 
ited family connection, whose name is too familiar 
in Saratoga to permit quoting — but she sighed as 
she turned away. 

“ What does money amount to, without parents, 
brothers or sisters,” she thought. 

“ Oh, Blanche ! not gone yet? ” was Mrs. Worth- 


70 A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 

ington’s salutation, as she looked up from a quantity 
of twenty -four button “ tans.” 

“ I thought you were off this morning : some one 
said so.” 

“No. I shall stay through this month. I am 
glad to find you here for I want to get Mr. Howard’s 
address. I have a friend in Washington who is 
very anxious to secure him for a reading. Some 
charitable affair ; very ‘swell,’ and all that. I do not 
fancy Browning will answer, but a light, popular 
programme instead. Do you know where a letter 
will find him at once. 

“ He is at Elizabethtown now and expects to be 
there for another week. I should think he would 
like to go to Washington. Indeed, I believe Mrs. 
Habersham has arranged with him for a reading 
some time during the season, but where I do not 
know.” 

“ All the more reason that I should make haste 
to secure an earlier date than hers. 

“ It can make no difference in the eclat of her 
reception, for all her guests are invited and sure to 
go ; but it will be better for the ‘ charity ’ to secure 
Ids first appearance. There always are stupid peo- 
ple who will pay a good price only for a novelty — 
the sort of people who travel just to say they ‘ have 
been there.’ Don’t you think so ? ” 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS. 


71 


“Yes, I know that is true. I never was more 
surprised than to see the Kensington parlor crowded 
to hear Mr. Howard read Browning. I should have 
said Browning and Saratoga were as incompatible 
as ancient Greek and whipped cream. To tell you 
the unvarnished truth, my dear, Browning is too 
involved for the average mind, even in winter, and 
I do not mind confessing that I prefer lighter food, 
in August: but, apropos of our convictions, you 
remember that Mrs. Habersham’s second morning, 
while even more crowded than the first, lacked just 
the element we speak of. Have you made your 
plans for the winter? Are we to see you in 
Boston?” 

“ Yes ! I think so. I am hoping to stay at home 
a greater part of the winter. When do you go? ” 

“To-morrow: there ! I shall not have to buy 
another glove for six months!” 

And with this, Mrs. Worthington waved her 
hand triumphantly at a promiscuous pile of tissue 
paper and gants de suede with the air of one who has 
won a great victory. 

With mutual and graceful farewells, the two 
parted, Mrs. Worthington passing out of the shop, 
leaving Blanche to speak to Arthur Graham, who 
had just come in. 

“Good morning, Mr. Graham. Where were you 


72 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


last evening? I quite missed you. You are gen- 
erally so good in ‘ sitting it out’ with me, just long 
enough to rest me thoroughly.” 

“ Yery kind of you to miss me, even as an ‘ alle- 
viator,’ Miss Atherton,” he returned. “ I intended 
being at the Marstons, but — couldn’t manage it. 
Have you heard from Miss Langley to-day? ” 

Blanche’s face gave quick signs of sympathy as 
she answered. 

“Ho. I hope she is not seriously injured. Do 
you know how it happened ? I have learned only 
that she was thrown from her cart.” 

“I believe the horse started while she had one 
foot on the cart step. They could not tell how seri- 
ous the injuries might be, but when I called to 
inquire, in the afternoon, the maid said she was fev- 
ish and much bruised. 

Miss Sel den will suffer almost as much as Miss 
Langley. I never saw a more tender friendship 
between two girls.” 

An animated expression came over his face and 
he spoke with considerable warmth. 

It occurred to Blanche that she had never seen 
him look so well before. 

“ He is in love with one of them,” she thought, 
“ and I wonder which.” 

A sigh followed the thought but nothing would 


A BOSTON GIRL’S WAYS. 


73 


have forced her to admit, even to herself, that there 
was any connection between the two. 

Arthur Graham, too, delivered himself of a sigh, 
which was an outcome of his thoughts; but this 
was not coincidental with Blanche’s sigh, except in 
an external sense, for the only person in his mind 
was Jeanne Langley. 


VIII. 


MR. WESTLAND RETURNS. 

HE afternoon light fell warmly across the 
lawn and Summer’s parting breath dallied 
/y [Hr with the vine-leaves, now turning into 
scarlet and gold, as Margaret Selden leaned 
upon the back of the steamer-chair upon which 
Jeanne lay, like a delicate flower, contentedly receiv- 
ing much cossetting. 

“You are ever so much stronger to-day, dear; 
the doctor says you may drive to-morrow, and Mr. 
Graham begs to act as your ‘Jehu.’ Would you 
like it ?” 

“The drive? Yes, indeed. After three weeks 
imprisonment, it would be delicious to get out 
again, but, Madge, won’t you drive me ? ” 

“I’d love to, Jeanne, but how can you refuse 
Arthur Graham the pleasure ? He has been so 
devoted to you all the while you have been ill. He 
has sent flowers every day, you know, and there 
was no end to the fruit, books, pictures and every- 
thing he could think of to amuse you.” 

Jeanne moved impatiently. 

74 


MR. WESTLAND RETURNS. 75 

“ It would have been the same, bad you been tbe 
invalid, dear ! ” she answered almost pettishly. “Ah 
Madge,” she added, with fore-finger raised in laugh- 
ing menace, “I am not at all sure he would not 
much prefer your company to mine on the Avenue ? 
to-morrow ; there ! don't look so confused. I will 
go with him, to satisfy you, though I wish I could 
show my gratitude in some other way.” 

After a moment's silence she asked, 

“ What has become of Mr. Westland ? ” 

‘‘Gone! I have not seen or heard of him since 
the day you were hurt. He called that afternoon 
and left some flowers and his regrets.” 

“ Has Mrs. Marston closed her house yet ? ” was 
Jeanne’s next venture. 

“ Ho. She does not go to town before Novem- 
ber, I think. She has a house full of company.” 

Jeanne’s eyes brightened as she turned her head 
slightly and played with a spray of leaves. 

“ I think she is lovely,” she said, finally, “ but, 
do you know, Madge, I do not feel quite at ease 
with her. She seems cordial too, but like a person 
that has not quite decided to give her entire confi- 
dence. Who is coming up the Avenue ? Can you 
see ? ” 

Margaret glanced in the direction indicated and 
frowned. 


76 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE 


“Speak of the ! It is Mr. Westland, now. 

Shall I excuse you or will you see him here? ” she 
asked. 

Jeanne inspected herself and her surroundings. 
Somewhat tremulously readjusting her pretty laces 
and ribbons, she answered with .almost over-mucli 
indifference, “ Yes, I suppose I can see him, if you 
will please show him out,” — for their piazza was on 
the side of the cottage opening from the drawing- 
room and quite hidden from the front entrance. 

“ But you are tired already, Jeanne. Do not see 
him to-day ! ” urged Madge. 

‘‘ It will do me good,” answered Jeanne, with a 
show of revived spirits ; so Margaret turned sharply 
and passed through the French window, to unwil- 
lingly execute her friend’s commission. 

She was spared many steps, for the guest stood 
before her, with outstretched hands and cordial 
greeting. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Westland; shall I take 
you to Miss Langley ? She is on the piazza,” was 
Margaret’s frigid salutation. She did not reward 
his proffered hand with even a glance, nor, in fact, 
did she look in his direction at all. Holding back 
the curtains and making way for him she announced 
his presence to Jeanne and then went to a seat at 
the other end of the piazza. 


MR. WESTLAND RETURNS. 


77 


Thus forbiddingly introduced and striving to 
crush back his resentment, Stephen Westland came 
into the presence of the object of his thoughts and 
longings ; but, so trying and weary had those three 
weeks of absence been to him that there was not 
much room in his heart for anger, when his hungry 
eyes fell upon Jeanne’s face and his hand clasped 
hers. 

“ My dear Miss Jeanne ! It is happiness to see 
you again and to find you looking so much better 
than I had dared expect.” 

For a moment his self-control was dangerously 
threatened and his embarrassment was materially 
added to by the significant flush on Jeanne’s 
cheeks. In spite of herself her eyes fell, but the 
woman’s tongue was soon ready with a gay retort. 

“ What a very uncomplimentary speech, Mr. 
Westland, and how long it has taken you to avail 
yourself of your { happiness ! ’ I am nearly well 
again. Where have you been all the time ? ” 

“In New York — watching beside a sick bed. 
Nothing less would have kept me away, Miss 
Jeanne.” 

Jeanne expressed the hope that no one dear to 
him was ill. “ My brother has been in a very bad 
way but is mending, we hope. I brought him to 
my sister’s last night.” Then in a lower tone, he 


78 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


added : “ Miss Jeanne, are you. strong enough to 
answer a serious question ? ” 

“ Yes. What is it ? ” she answered, half guessing 
what was coming. 

“ Can you tell me how I have offended Miss 
Selden? ” 

Jeanne laughed lightly. There was a new and 
strange gladness in the air, which made all troub- 
lous things seem meaningless. 

“ Madge ! oh ! she is a dear thing, but full of 
notions. Do not mind her. She will be all right 
when she knows you better. I am sure you have 
given her no cause for offence.” 

“Not to my knowledge, I assure you; but she 
refuses any friendly advances. What am I to do ? ” 
“ Leave her to me. Now tell me about your- 
self.” 

******** 
Margaret had gone, now, from the piazza and 
they were entirely alone. The time had come for 
which Stephen had long waited and hoped. There 
was a deep light in his eyes and such a tremor in 
his limbs, as no danger could ever have sent 
through them. Closer and closer he bent over the 
girl’s fair head, unchecked. The span betwixt 
heaven and earth had never seemed so slight to him 
before. “ Jeanne,” he whispered — “ Jeanne.” Her 


MR. WESTLAND RETURNS. 


79 


eyes, all misty with a starry radiance, were uplifted 
for an instant, and then lowered in sweet confusion. 

Still he was unrebuked. “ Jeanne, dear one — let 
me tell you what my life is like : there is but one 
thing in it which gives it value, and that has grown 
and grown until it has pervaded my whole being 
and now glorifies every hour of my existence. 
Jeanne — I love you !” 

His voice trembled and his hands clasped hers 
with almost painful force, while his eyes eagerly 
sought hers for a response. So she held him, for a 
moment, making no sign — and then strong in her 
maiden faith and joy, she lifted her face to his in 
almost child-like self-forgetfulness and softly whis- 
pered — “ Thank God ! ’ 


IX. 


FROM LIGHT TO DARKNESS. 



STEP on the gravel path recalled them to a 
recognition of passing events and then Mar 


garet passed around the front of the house 
and joined them, placing a magnificent 
basket of roses, with a note, on the table near 
Jeanne’s chair. Turning to inspect her charge she 
seemed suddenly struck with some unexpected and 
terrible thought. Controlling herself with visible 
effort she spoke calmly, though white to her lips. 
“Jeanne you look feverish and exhausted. Mr. 
Westland must pardon me if I beg him to excuse 
you, for to-day. I fear, as it is, you will suffer from 
over exertion.” Then turning to him, with averted 
eyes, she added : “This is only the second time she 
has been down stairs and she is still far from 
strong.” 

Stephen rose quickly and mutely questioned 
Jeanne — was silenced by a shake of her head and a- 
finger on her lip. Margaret saw nothing of this and 
only heard the gentle voice excusing her friend’s 


80 


FROM LIGHT TO DARKNESS. 


81 


over-anxiety and bidding Mr. Westland ciu revoir 
“until to-morrow/’ when he must dine with them. 

Receiving his cue from her, the happy but per- 
plexed lover took his departure, carrying with him 
much food for blissful thoughts as well as a con- 
stantly increasing wonderment as to the cause of 
Miss Selden’s attitude toward him. 
********* 

Jeanne was weary and half angry with Margaret, 
as well as disinclined to the announcement of her 
love for and engagement to the man so distasteful to 
her friend. 

So, saying nothing of what had passed, she 
yielded to the suggestion that she should refresh 
herself by an hour’s nap, and, accordingly, was left 
by Margaret, comfortably nestled down in the 
midst of a pile of cushions, upon a broad low 
lounge, in the furthest corner of the back drawing- 
room and protected from observation by a generous 
screen. Thus luxuriously settled, with no reason 
for shutting out her new happiness, she opened her 
violet eyes and gazed about her as if upon a new 
world. She had closed them to satisfy Margaret’s 
affectionate solicitude — but they refused to stay 
shut — happy things ! Raising her hands before her 
she regarded them, also, with tender curiosity. 
Slowly she turned them about and let the dim 
6 


82 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


light fall more fully upon them : then she laid each 
hand gently on either cheek and finally went 
through the process of softly kissing all her pretty 
fingers and pink palms. 

“ Jast here and here and there he kissed you,” she 
whispered to herself. 

“You are nothing remarkable, but he says you 
are the lovliest hands in the world ! ” 

So she murmured on, in the ecstasy of newly 
acknowledged love, until tired nature refused longer 
to be ignored and then she became lost to her 
immediate surroundings in a happy tangle of 
dreams with but one shadow in them, and that was 
the shadow of Margaret’s stern face. 
********* 

How long she slept she never knew. Her 
awakening was slow, indistinct and perplexing. 

Low voices reached her ear, but it seemed a long 
time before she could separate her dreams from 
reality and so intangible and confused seemed 
everything, after the manner common to invalidism, 
that she made no movement to attract attention, 
until her ears and heart and whole being had com- 
prehended a terrible statement, made with no 
knowledge of her close vicinity, nor of the deathly 
swoon into which it plunged her. 

All she could ever tell about it was, that, with 


FROM LIGHT TO DARKNESS. 


83 


the realization that she was awake and that the 
conversation being carried on was a reality and the 
voices those of her aunt, Mrs. Maxwell, and Mrs. 
Marston, came those words which first over- 
whelmed her with agony and then mercifully 
deprived her of consciousness. 

They were spoken by Mrs. Marston and were, 

“ I thought everybody knew Stephen to be a 
married man. His wife is abroad.” 
********* 

Agnes Marston had no idea of the effect of her 
words and for some time chatted on to her hostess. 

That she had a serious intent, in thus frustrating 
what she had been forced to fear might prove a 
dangerous “ amusement ” of Stephen’s was not at 
all apparent to Mrs. Maxwell and was not intended 
to be. 

Her ostensible purpose in calling was to inquire 
after Jeanne’s health, after which she had spoken 
of her brother Mark’s arrival with Stephen. 

In answering some joking remark of Mrs. Max- 
well’s about her two bachelor brothers she had 
deftly availed herself of the coveted opportunity to 
straighten matters, so far as possible, after which 
she took her leave, with a feeling of having done 
her duty to all concerned. 

Mrs. Maxwell parted with her reluctantly, for 


84 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Agnes was very charming to every one, but most 
of all, to women. She had the rare, faculty of 
inspiring them with confidence in themselves — 
that most subtle of all flattery. 

“ How beautiful she is ! It always does me good 
to see her,” mused the kindly hostess, as she took 
her way up to Jeanne’s room after Mrs. Marston’s 
departure. 

• Not finding Jeanne there, but meeting Margaret 
on the threshold, they both returned to the draw- 
ing-room to arouse the sleeper for dinner. 

Great was their, consternation to discover her, 
lying like a corpse, with rigid hands, parted lips 
and no sign of life apparent. 


X. 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


ARGtARET’S anx i e ty for her friend’s life 
WmMV was secondary only to her fears for her 
||^7/|| happiness and — in this connection — her 


utter helplessness fairly frenzied her. 

The doctor, after seeing. Jeanne conveyed to her 
own room and revived from her obstinate swoon, 
strictly forbade her holding any conversation, treat- 
ing the whole matter as a natural consequence of 
depleted strength. 

But Margaret was far from satisfied with that 
theory. 

There was a look of misery in Jeanne’s face 
which nothing could make Margaret believe came 
from weakness alone. 

She questioned Mrs. Maxwell but that good soul 
failed to make any thing clearer. 

Somewhat relieved to be spared a conversation 
with Jeanne, but yet uneasy and thoroughly 
wretched, she wandered out on the same piazza 
which had been the scene of so much happiness 
that very afternoon. 


85 


86 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


The darkness was welcome and the need of 
restraint being removed, she threw herself into a low 
chair and gave vent to her excited and over- 
wrought feelings. Clenching her hands she 
breathed quickly and heavily, until the internal 
and agonized workings of her mind finally forced 
her to her feet. 

“ I must tell her ! there is no other way,” she 
groaned. “ He has no more heart than a stone and 
no more honor than a devil; but she will only 
cling to him all the closer for any accusations 
which are brought against him now, unless they 
are proved beyond doubt. Oh, my poor little 
Jeanne ! Why must you be sacrificed to such a 
wretch ? ” and then, burying her hands and face in 
the cushions of the chair, she sobbed and wept as 
only so strong a woman can. 

Finally, having exhausted herself, she lay back 
wearily, content to let the soft night air dissipate 
all signs of her unusual tears, for she knew she 
must soon return to Jeanne. 

After a while, still lacking the courage to do 
what seemed her duty, she passed through the 
silent drawing-room, and, taking a light wrap from 
the hall-stand, threw it around her and passed out 
of the front door down the gravel walk, to a foot- 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


87 


path which was screened from the street by a thick 
hedge, and afforded a retired promenade. 

Up and down this she nervously paced for a con- 
siderable time. 

Her dark hair and glowing eyes, and the crimson 
wrap, falling over her shoulders, made a striking 
picture in the clear moonlight. 

“ Poor Jeanne! Wretched me ! ” she murmured. 

“ How can I tell her ? How can I see her suffer 
so ! ” 

Her face was marked with sharp pain-lines, and 
each passing moment seemed to age her grievously. 
As she sped swiftly and nervously back and forth, 
a window blind was suddenly thrown open in 
Jeanne’s room, and Mrs. Maxwell’s voice called : 
“ Margaret ! are you there ? I want you — hurry I ” 

Like an arrow she fled across the damp grass, up 
the steps, across the piazza and hall, and up the 
stairs, only pausing to catch her breath before 
opening the door which led into Jeanne’s room. 

As she stood there panting and listening for some 
encouraging sound, Mrs. Maxwell opened the door 
and shutting it behind her, gently drew Margaret a 
few steps away and said, “ What can be the matter 
with her, Margaret? Her maid says she has not 
spoken or moved since the doctor left her. She 
takes no notice of me and will answer no questions. 


88 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Even my call to you did not seem to arouse her, as 
I hoped it would. Mr. Westland just sent her 
some flowers, and when Kate brought them to her, 
she shuddered and turned her face to the wall. Do 
you think she is out of her mind? ” 

Margaret was shocked and puzzled. 

“ I cannot understand it,” she said. “ Let me go 
to her,” and pushing the door back, she crossed the 
dimly lighted room to her friend’s bedside. 

Kneeling by her, she put out her hand and softly 
touched the hot head, stroking the golden hair as 
it fell over the pillow. 

“Jeanne, dear,” she whispered, “does your head 
ache ? ” 

Jeanne turned slowly, and, looking about the 
room, sighed wearily. Putting her arm about 
Margaret’s neck she drew her head down and 
whispered : 

“Madge, send everybody away. I want you 
alone.” 

Margaret answered, “ Yes, dear, as quickly as I 
can.” Rising, she said to Mrs. Maxwell, “ I have 
often nursed Jeanne with these headache’s — do not 
be worried. She will feel better after a night’s 
rest. I think I can soothe her to sleep very soon.” 

Dismissing Kate, the maid, Margaret followed 
Mrs. Maxwell to the door, stopping to say, when 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


89 


outside the room, “ I think she is very nervous, 
but nothing more,” and, bidding her good night, 
returned to Jeanne. 

********* 
£ “Madge, do weak people ever dream horrible 
things which seem absolutely real to them ? ” asked 
Jeanne, as Margaret sat down by her bed and 
tenderly bathed her fevered hands and head. 

Under ordinary circumstances an affectionate 
and intelligent woman will tread closely upon the 
heels of falsehood, for the sake of quieting the 
agitation and sickly fancies of a beloved invalid. 

Margaret’s anxiety for Jeanne’s future happiness, 
as well as her intense desire to understand the 
sudden and great change in the girl’s face, voice and 
manner, influenced her answer. 

She said to herself, “ It may be I can turn her 
thoughts into the channel best suited to my story, 
by employing some dream-fancy for a beginning.” 

Sitting a little back of Jeanne’s line of vision, 
and suspending her manipulations for the time 
being she said : 

“ I hardly know, dear. Why do you ask? ” 

“ Because I must know, Madge,” Jeanne cried, 
raising herself on her arm and dashing aside the 
slight covering which Margaret had thrown over 
her. 


90 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


“ If I have dreamed, I may dare to awaken ; 
but if my ears really heard what my brain is 
repeating over and over,” — and the poor child fell 
back upon her pillow — “ I want to die" 

Margaret, more and more puzzled, put her head 
down close to Jeanne’s, and held her trembling 
hands firmly, saying, “ Tell me all about it, dearie, 
and let me help you if I can. What did you 
dream?” 

“ Was Mrs. Marston here this afternoon ? ” asked 
Jeanne suddenly. 

“ Not that I know of. I was in my room after I 
left you, until your aunt came up-stairs.” 

“Madge, go! go this moment, if you love me, 
and ask auntie if any one called this afternoon. 
Quick, Madge — go now ! " 

Jeanne looked so excited and strange that she 
really frightened Margaret, who lost no time in 
searching for Mrs. Maxwell and getting the desired 
information. 

On her return she found Jeanne sitting up in 
bed, with both hands pressed against her temples, 
waiting breathlessly for her answer. 

“ Yes, Mrs. Marston was here for a few moments 
- — Jeanne ! What is the matter ? ” she cried, with 
her next breath, for, as if struck by lightning, 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


91 


Jeanne had fallen prone upon her pillow in another 
deathly faint. 

Margaret was too skilled a nurse to need any 
assistance in caring for the girl to whom she had 
been c(jjnpanion and friend for three happy years 
of mutual confidence and affection. 

Deftly administering the proper remedies, she 
watched the symptoms of returning animation with 
much heaviness of heart. 

Jeanne rallied very gradually, and it was painful 
to note how each accession of consciousness but 
increased the look of misery upon her young face. 

Not a word did she speak for a long while. 

Margaret kissed her gently and lingeringly, as 
only a woman can kiss a woman. 

A flood of tears was her reward, and then came 
convulsive sobs, little pitiful gasps and heart- 
rending moans, as Jeanne cried, “Oh, Madge! hold 
me close, for my heart is broken ! Oh, why did 
you nurse me back to life ? Why could I not have 
died on that bright morning when I was so happy ? ” 

So she cried on, at times incoherently, then more 
calmly, until out of it all Margaret began to hope 
for the peace which, of necessity, relieves such 
violent emotion. 

Her hope was realized, for at length Jeanne 
became more calm. 


92 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. . 


“ How selfish I am, dearest,” she said, abruptly 
withdrawing herself from the now aching arms of 
her faithful friend, and turning toward her on her 
pillows. 

“You are better now, Jeanne,” said Margaret, 
trying to speak in a matter-of-course tone. 

Preparing a quieting potion, she handed it to 
Jeanne, who, much to her relief, accepted it, while 
in an altered but still unnatural tone she said, “ Yes, 
I am stronger now, and you must listen to me and 
then tell me what to do. I am going to speak very 
frankly, Madge, and I want you to give me your 
fullest sympath}' and help. It has caused me much 
pain to see the great dislike you have shown toward 
Mr. Westland, ever since you first met him. -I 
never could understand it. It is the only injustice 
I have ever known in you. This afternoon while 
I was half asleep and half awake, in the drawing- 
room, Mrs. Marston told Auntie — that — that he 
was — a — married man.” Here Jeanne’s voice failed 
her for a moment, but after a little she went on : 
“ I was weak and so I suppose I fainted, for, only 
one little hour before, he had told me he loved 
me.” 

There was another moment of silence, but this 
time it was not a tearful silence. Quite the oppo- 
site. To Margaret’s utter amazement, a happy 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


93 


smile came upon the delicate face and a new strength 
seemed suddenly to animate the whole figure, as in 
ringing tones she added, “ And, Madge, I know he 
does love me and that I love him as well. Come 
what m&y, that cannot be changed ! ” 

Looking fully into Margaret’s face, she stopped 
short — shocked at the expression of indignant won- 
derment she saw there. 

For a moment both were silent. Then Margaret 
withdrew from the bed, slowly and painfully ; stif- 
fened by her long continuance in one position, it 
may be — but to Jeanne it seemed more like a sud- 
den coldness of heart. 

At last Jeanne found voice to cry, “ Madge, what 
is it ? You do not believe that wicked story ? 
Surely you cannot think my Stephen such a villain ! 
But you never liked him and so you were never 
just to him.” 

Jeanne became as cold and dignified now as she 
would have been to an utter stranger. She arranged 
her disordered clothing, pushed back her hair, calmly 
adjusted her pillows and made all the necessary 
preparations for sleep without a glance at Margaret, 
who seemed lost in thought and wholly unmindful 
of the present. 

But Jeanne’s strength of action was not quite 
equal to her determination. At last looking at her 


94 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


friend she said, “ I think I am more to blame than 
you are, Madge. It is not strange that you should 
be ready to believe evil of Stephen, never having- 
liked him ; especially when I gave you the right 
to believe that I doubted him. Oh, Madge ! how 
could I ever have been so false to him — even for 
one moment! You have done me good, for you 
have brought me to my senses.” Here Jeanne put 
out her hand, affectionately, but Madge took no 
notice of it. Undismayed, Jeanne went on. 

“I would not believe the whole united world 
against my beloved’s honor,” she declared. “ I am 
ashamed to think that any degree of physical weak- 
ness could have made me so untrue to him, even in 
thought.” 

Here she suddenly looked around at the table at 
the head of the bed, and, seizing the roses which 
Stephen had sent her and from which she had 
turned with horror, a short time before, she buried 
her face in their fragrant beauty and kissed them 
in her penitence. 

This, at last aroused Margaret. She leaned for- 
ward and intently studied the flushed face. 

“Jeanne, my darling, you are worn out and must 
rest,” she said. “Let me say good-night and to- 
morrow, dear, I will tell you all you have so often 
asked me about and which I have so often with- 


JEANNE AND MARGARET. 


95 


held, concerning my past life. God bless you, 
Jeanne.” 

With these words she passed quietly from 
Jeanne’s s^de and a moment later had shut herself 
up in her own room. 


XI. 


MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 

ITH only that door between them, tbe 
early hours of the following day dawned 
upon this true but constrained friend- 
ship. 

In the “ red room,” as it was called, Margaret 
lay with wide open eyes, dreading the approach of 
the moment that must open her lips and — Heavens ! 
what might not her words bring to that sensitive 
and loving heart ! 

- Again and again she reviewed the situation, 
vainly striving to discover some way of averting 
the misery which she saw hanging over Jeanne. 
It was wholly of Jeanne and not at all of herself, 
that she now thought. 

She was quite past considering the others who 
were involved in the wretched affair, herself included. 
Without a qualm of conscience, would she have 
consigned all the Westlands in creation to endless 
perdition — had the means of so doing been in her 
hands — if it would have ended Jeanne’s troubles 
and made her her sunshiny self once more, 

96 



MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 


97 


Ever since a certain bleak March day, three years 
before, when she first looked upon Jeanne Langley, 
in her black dress — an orphan, like herself — she 
had dearly loved her. 

Her duties as companion at once became her 
greatest happiness and the depth of her loyal nature 
quickly unfolded, in the atmosphere of affectionate 
consideration with which Jeanne had delighted to 
environ her. Their lives had thus run on together, 
in smooth and pleasant grooves, until Jeanne’s crit- 
ical and fashionable world no longer drew any line 
of distinction between Miss Langley, the heiress, 
and Miss Selden, her dearest friend. 

And now — Margaret’s love must choose between 
speaking the words that might kill her darling, or 
maintaining silence and so permitting disgrace to 
touch her poor life, innocent though she would be. 

No ! there was no escape ; and Margaret prayed 
almost frantically for the strength to do her duty, 
and for Jeanne, that she might be able to bear her 
heavy burden and out-live its bitterness. 

Jeanne, throughout that night, lay quietly in her 
pretty little French bed, with Stephen’s roses pressed 
upon her bosom, rising and falling, with her every 
breath. Her sleep, however, was fitful and broken 
— her dreams half sad and half glad. Sleeping or 
waking her lacerated spirit found measureless com- 
7 


98 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


fort in the incessant iteration of the consoling 
words : 

“ Stephen loves me, and he will explain all.” 

Iler chief cause of sadness, now, lay in her hav- 
ing given credence, however briefly, to what she 
had heard Mrs. Marston say. She felt that she had 
been wickedly disloyal, iu so doing, and the qualms 
of self reproach occasioned her exquisite pain. It 
also distressed her deeply, to see Margaret, whom 
she loved next to Stephen, regard him with such 
abhorrence. 

As often as she recalled his grieved wonderment, 
as to the cause of this aversion, she felt sure that 
Margaret’s heart would have been won'over to his 
cause, had she witnessed it. 

One consequence of her recent intense excitement, 
was a lack of capability to realize, much of the 
time, whether she was actually thinking or lost in 
the mazes of a fevered dream. 

Sometimes Stephen’s loving tones seemed filling 
the air with music. She would fancy that his 
hands were holding her fast, as she found herself 
suspended over depths of unfathomable darkness, 
whence Mrs. Marston’s laughing voice came, always 
repeating those awful words, — Stephen is mar- 
ried — Stephen is married.” Then again, Margaret’s 
face glared at her, with a horrible scorn upon it. 


MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 


99 


But toward morning, she was nearer a normal state, 
and then, her dreams were of joy and gladness; 
roses an<si perfume — safety and — Stephen! 

As the hour of eight was chimed from the hall 
clock, Margaret stole in and looked at Jeanne, who 
then lay curled up among her pillows, her heavy 
lashes sweeping her cheeks, her lips curled in a half 
pout, as if in some pretty resentment, while her 
hands still clung to Stephen’s roses. 

“ Such a child ! and yet so strong in her confi- 
dence and love. How I wish she might never 
know a sorrow,” sighed Margaret, as she noiselessly 
pushed a screen between the bed and morning light, 
which was now falling through the eastern window, 
after which she left Jeanne to her dreams. 

The household were not likely to assemble 
around the breakfast table for another hour, as 
Mrs. Maxwell was fond of her morning nap and 
Mr. Maxwell was off on a trip to the city. Only 
the servants disturbed the absolute quiet of the 
crisp bright morning. 

Margaret, wretched and utterly unrefreshed by 
her night of wakeful and disturbed tossings, craved 
the tonic of nature’s own making, and, donning hat 
and wrap, quietly passed out of the side door, down 
the Avenue, on to the road leading toward Wood- 
lawn Park. 


100 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Every thing looked so bright and cheerful that 
she felt better and stronger and quickening her 
pace, soon found herself among the well-kept wind- 
ing paths of the park, catching exquisite glimpses 
of hill and vale through the numerous leafy open- 
ings, and drinking in the clear air and brilliant 
beauty of the gorgeous landscape, now royal with 
autumnal colorings. Cold and irresponsive, indeed, 
must have been the heart that clung to impassive- 
ness on such a morning and in the midst of such 
surroundings. 

Her color, always deep and abundant, was richly 
increased by the frosty air and her brisk exercise. 

Her whole figure suggested strength, equipoise, 
energy and dignity and she sped along, independent 
of any intention or purpose. 

With the economy of a mind disciplined to meet- 
ing great issues with cool courage, she now forced 
herself to put aside the questions and worries of the 
past, present and future, recognizing the necessity 
of gaining all possible good from the hour’s respite 

Turning into one of the many woody paths, she 
found herself suddenly committed, as it were, to a 
circling, down-hill grade which lost itself in suc- 
cessive curves. 

Yielding to the momentum, and glad of the free- 
dom from observation, she permitted her walking 


MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 


101 


to merge into running — until, breathless and flushed, 
she reached the bottom of the hill — glad to sink 
upon a rustic bench which was conveniently await- 
ing her. 

All about her the solitude was unbroken except 
for the rattling of a squirrel here and there. 

The Hilton cottages were just above her and 
their roofs were visible through the trees, but there 
was nothing else in sight except the soothing archi- 
tecture of Nature. 

Her flying feet had scattered countless beds of 
gold and crimson leaves from her way, and their 
rustle still vibrated in her ears — then it suddenly 
struck her that this was strangely prolonged. 
“ Surely they cannot be so long in fluttering into 
place,” she thought. “ Where does all that sound 
come from ? ” Swish ! Swash ! like the trailing of 
a heavy silk over a marble floor, went the leaves, 
and the sound increased in volume. Some one was 
coming. 

Margaret, half indifferent, half curious, looked 
around. 

Handsome as an Apollo (even she was forced to 
admit it) unconscious as a statue — with head thrown 
back and his hands behind him, carelessly trailing 
his walking stick, which kept the carpet of autumn 
leaves in such a murmur of resentment, came 


102 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Stephen Westland. Not yet aware of her presence, 
he looked as if his thoughts were above any earthly 
thing, so utterly glad was his face, so joyous his 
step. 

Margaret started to her feet, thereby attracting 
his notice ; but she turned away from him with the 
intention of retreating and was only forced by her 
own self-respect to turn again in response to his 
greeting. 

“ Where on earth did you come from, so early in 
the morning, Miss Selden ? ” he cried, gayly, touch- 
ing his hat and “presenting arms” in droll affecta- 
tion of military salute. 

Margaret simply congealed. “I thought I was 
quite alone, Mr. Westland,” she answered. “I am 
afraid it is later than I supposed it to be.” With a 
very slight inclination of the head; she made fat 
movement as if to pass him ; but Mr. Westland 
evidently thought that this was a very good time 
and place, to come to an understanding with this 
unaccountably offensive young woman. Accord- 
ingly, he stepped in front of her and said, with 
great dignity and courtesy of tone and manner : 

“Miss Selden; may I not beg one moment of 
your time? Will you kindly tell me in what way I 
have been so unfortunate as to offend you ? ” 

Margaret’s eyes flashed. She closed her hands 


MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 


103 


tightly, making a swift mental estimate of what would 
be her best course under present circumstances. 
Deciding the question quickly, she paused — looking 
the protest she felt at thus being detained against 
her will. 

He stood before her — quiet and grave — awaiting 
her answer. A less prejudiced person would have 
felt the respect-inspiring influence of his frank, 
open face and well-bred bearing. Not Margaret — 
like the cut of a sword came the words. 

“ How dare you ask me such a question ? Do you 
think I am as base and heartless as yourself? Do 
you suppose I have ever dreamed that even 
your audacity and villainy would carry you to 
such a length as to insult Miss Langley with words 
of love? ” she demanded fiercely. “ Do you expect 
me to hold my peace and see her sweet life ruined ? ” 

The excited girl seemed to add inches to her 
stature, as she towered in her wrath before the 
amazed man — for he was amazed — and nothing 
more. His face gave no evidence of anything but 
extreme bewilderment. 

“ Miss Selden,” he said, in the same quiet tone — 
“You are in such unmistakable earnest that I 
cannot doubt your full faith in whatever you base 
your very strong adjectives upon; but, in justice to 
myself, I must insist upon an explanation, for I am 


104 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


entirely in the dark. By what right do you call 
me villain ? ” 

Margaret had moved away a step, but she turned 
back again at this demand. 

“ By the right of my knowledge of your past 
unworthiness ! ” she exclaimed. 

“ By the right of my love for Jeanne Langley : 

“ By the right of my pity for that long-forsaken 
girl you so shamefully wronged — and by the right 
of my supreme contempt for you ! ” 

“What girl?” sharply demanded Stephen, as 
Margaret again turned from him. 

She wheeled about, and, looking all her wrath and 
indignation, answered sternly, “ Your wife ! ” 

He started as if struck. 

“ What do you know about her? ” he asked with 
amazed inflection.. 

“ Every thing f was the answer. “ Shall I 
denounce you to Miss Langley, as a married man, 
or will you leave us to such peace as time is said to 
bring to deceived and disappointed women, and so 
let silence cover the past and obliterate its shame ? ” 

Margaret’s tone was now changed to one of 
entreaty. She stretched out both hands, even 
touching Stephen’s arm in her earnestness. 

“Why will you not do this, Mr. Westland?” 
she pleaded, brokenly. 


MARGARET AND STEPHEN. 


105 


“ Poor Jeanne is so delicate and so easily over- 
come by excitement. Why will you not leave 
town at once and write to her that you have 
reconsidered your feelings and judge it kindness to 
her to leave her free. Will you not? Truly 
enough, that will nearly kill her, for she loves you 
with her whole heart ; but better that than for her 
to know the truth. Oh ! promise me, now, to go 
at once ! ” And she fairly hung on his arm in the 
agony of desire to accomplish her end. 

Stephen Westland, more and more puzzled and 
now deeply distressed, took both her hands in his 
own and said ; 

“ I will go within an hour if you can convince me 
that it is necessary for Jeanne’s happiness, but why 
should my painful past unfit me for the duties and 
the unutterable happiness of making Jeanne’s life 
as bright and happy as she and I both believe I can 
make it.” 

Margaret snatched away her hands and scornfully 
drew back from any possible contact with him. 

“ Why, when you are a married man ! how dare 
you ! ” 

u But , 11 he interrupted, “ my poor wife has been 
dead for tvjo years, and so tell me, pray, why she 
need cloud Jeanne’s life, if we marry ? ” 

Margaret now seemed absolutely turned to stone : 


106 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


every trace of softness and sympathy faded out of 
her face and when she next spoke, her voice was 
harsh and discordant. 

“ Mr. Westland, all hope is dead within me now. 
Understand, however, that you cannot deceive me, 
nor shall you deceive my poor Jeanne. I have 
but little doubt that it will kill her to learn the 
truth but there are worse things to bear than 
death : she shall never be your dupe ! Your wife 
is not dead. I saw her less than six months ago ! ” 
and turning from him for the last time, she left him 
standing dazed and speechless, and passed swiftly 
out of sight. 


XII. 


JEANNE AT HOME. 

S OOKING neither to the right, nor to the left 
— headless of nature’s lovliness on all sides 
and mindful only of its abnormal atrocity, as 
revealed in the man she had just left stare- 
ing after her — sped Margaret, reaching home and 
the refuge of her own room, unnoticed and unchal- 
lenged. 

Everything was in order. The pretty little clock, 
which Jeanne had given her the week before, ticked 
as serenely as though marking the pulsation of only 
light and happy hearts. 

The special luxury, a low lounge, drawn up 
before the window, with its ample cushions, looked 
invitingly restful ; but it was not to indulge in any 
indolent reveries that she now threw herself upon 
it. Tears were forbidden her, but her whole frame 
trembled with suppressed emotion. For a single 
moment she had indulged the hope that Stephen 
Westland might be induced to go away, and so 
spare Jeanne the misery of knowing to the full the 
extent of his baseness. “But what a fool I was to 

107 


108 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


put any confidence in such a man ; ” she now cried 
to herself. 

“ Do I not know — have I not known for years, 
his heartlessness and his intense selfishness. Poor 
Jeanne ! poor me ! poor everybody that has to 
depend upon so unstable and self- worshiping a 
nature ! ” 

The breakfast bell broke in upon her painful 
self-communing. Then there was a tap at the door 
and Jeanne’s face peeped in, quickly followed by 
her charming person daintily attired in a favorite 
combination of softest tinted pink and blue cr&pe 
with old and rare lace about her white throat and 
hands. A vision of tender and propitiating lovli- 
ness, indeed. 

“ Are you ill, Madge,” she cried, noting the pos- 
ture and the unsmiling welcome, for the suddenness 
of her coming, had prevented the change in her out- 
ward appearance which Margaret intended making. 

Rising and forcing a poor substitute for her usual 
hearty greeting, she glanced at herself, as she passed 
her dressing table and exclaimed, “ No wonder you 
ask ! what a fright I am : I believe I walked too 
far and am a little tired.” 

They went down stairs side by side, Jeanne 
hanging on Margaret’s arm, for this was her first 
appearance at the breakfast table since her accident 


JEANNE AT HOME. 


109 


— the lack of necessity, rather than any more 
serious reason, having excused her from giving up 
her pet luxury — breakfast in her own room. 

Mrs. Maxwell greeted Jeanne with rejoicing. 

“ My love,” she said, “ you really frightened me 
nearly out of my wits, yesterday. I was afraid you 
were going to have some horrible fever or some- 
thing. But the doctor said it was only weakness. 
Margaret must see that you are more careful to- 
day. Why Margaret ! you look worse than Jeanne, 
this morning. What is the matter? Have you 
caught her headache ? ” 

“Perhaps,” replied Margaret, accepting that as 
the easiest way of answering her kind question, and 
proceeding at once to make herself useful by many 
little services which she usually performed ; reliev- 
ing Mrs. Maxwell of pouring the coffee and Jeanne 
of preparing her beefsteak and eggs, as well as her- 
self of the necessity of much eating. 

While they discussed different subjects of mutual 
interest, the door bell rang and a servant brought a 
note to Jeanne, with a knot of spicy roses of the 
creamy whiteness just matching her lace. 

“ How very lovely,” she said, with such lack of 
enthusiasm as to make her words sound mechanical 
and parrot-like. 

Mr. Graham had averaged three bouquets a week, 
lately, and had reaped but slight reward from his 


110 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


devotion. Supposing this offering to be from him, 
Jeanne laid the note down by her plate without 
opening it, until accidentally glancing at the super- 
scription, her manner quickly changed and the 
slighted missive became the object of her closest 
inspection. 

The hand writing was vastly different from Mr. 
Graham’s too feminine chirography, and its chief 
virtue hardly seemed to be legibility, for it took 
Jeanne many minutes to digest its contents which 
were only : 

“ My Dearest — May I follow my roses very soon? 
If not, please send me a message and tell me the 
first moment I may go to you. 

Yours always, 
Stephen.” 

Jeanue was a bit disappointed that her first note 
from her lover should be so brief — but he was com- 
ing ! What did any thing else matter! 

She made no explanation to her companions. 
There was nothing unusual in notes and flowers 
coming to her, or to Margaret either, for that mat- 
ter. Mrs. Maxwell asked, carelessly, “Is Mr. 
Graham going to stay much longer?” — but she 
hardly waited for an answer before introducing a 
more vital subject. 

Margaret said nothing, but noted the change in 


JEANNE AT HOME. 


Ill 


Jeanne’s face, the unusual care she took of the note, 
and the fact tha+ the knot of roses was carefully 
conveyed to that portion of her gown which was 
nearest to her heart, where it was fastened securely. 

It was after ten now, and Margaret asked Jeanne 
what plans she had made for the morning. 

“None, dear,” was the prompt reply. “You 
know I have loathed c plans ’ ever since that dread- 
ful Mrs. Baxter was here and made my life such a 
burden with her ‘ systems of education,’ £ systems of 
philanthropy ’ and various other ‘ systems ’ for mak- 
ing herself an intolerable nuisance, generally. 
Don’t think of me at all, but act your own sweet will, 
Madge, dear. I am hopelessly lazy and have just 
the book to dream over, with no danger of fatigue 
or lack of amusement.” — And with this, Jeanne 
waved a neat little edition of Prof. Sheppard’s “Sara- 
toga Chips ” before Margaret’s face, as she disap- 
peared into the morning room, where the combined 
efforts of sunlight and an open wood fire, afforded 
just the atmosphere most conducive to thorough 
comfort. 

Margaret immediately set. herself about her 
morning duties and Mrs. Maxwell only lingered to 
give her orders for the day to Rachael, the waitress, 
saying as she left the room, “ Do not wait luncheon 
for me. I may have to stay at the ‘ Home of the 
Good Shepherd,’ until late.” 


XIII. 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 


I TEPHEN WESTLAND watched Margaret 
out of sight and then sat down upon the 
bench from which his coming had driven 
her, and struggled to arrange his dazed 
ideas sufficiently to understand her last words. 

“ I saw her less than six months ago.” 

Who could she have seen, six months ago ? Not 
Elsie; the woman who had deserted his heart and 
his home, and who had for two years slept under 
the shadow of an old French cathedral, among the 
last scenes of her strange, foreign life. 

He recalled the horror of Margaret’s tone and 
the scorn written on her every feature, as she had 
spoken those words of denunciation. 

“ She believes it, but how can I convince her she 
is mistaken,” he muttered. He went back, men- 
tally, to the day when he had seen that death notice 
in a New York paper and wondered where the 
friend could be found who had then made inquiries 
for him. On returning from abroad, this friend 
had assured him that he had seen the erring 
112 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 113 

wife’s grave, of which he had even brought a pho- 
tograph, which was taken especially for him. 

Weighing all these things in his mind, and, 
weighing also the truthfulness and sincerity of 
Margaret’s character, for the first time a dreadful 
doubt slowly insinuated itself into his mind. What 
if she still lived — despite the notice and the identi- 
fied grave! 

Could her alleged death have been a trick of 
vengeance, in retaliation for his refusal to be dragged 
into a divorce court ? Or had this evil woman 
thus endeavored to rid herself of the possibility of 
discovery. 

As he admitted these frightful possibilities, he 
suddenly felt himself growing weak and faint- 
hearted. In those few moments, he first realized 
how dreadful his real position might be and his 
reason nearly forsook him, and it was no wonder 
that even his strong manhood should give way : 
his honor was assailed — his happiness was threaten- 
ed and all that he valued in life was on the verge of 
possible wreck; — with an outcry of agony he 
plunged, literally, into the heart of the woodland 
maze and rushed along, as wretchedly blind to his 
surroundings as Margaret had been when she fled 
from him, in the opposite direction. 

Disciplined by past sorrow and suffering, his im- 

8 


114 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


pulsive nature had learned self-control in goodly 
measure ; but now his chief feeling was for others, 
and no amount of former training or misery - 
evolved fortitude was likely to help him much, for 
the time being. 

On and still on his head-long pace carried him, 
until, by the time his back was turned on Glen 
Mitchell his thoughts were, at least, far clearer. 

“ I have nothing to be ashamed of, however mat- 
ters may stand,” he ruminated. “ If Jeanne loves 
me, she has a right to know and if she is the 
woman I believe she is, this trouble will bring out 
all her womanly wisdom and tact clearly. My first 
duty is to tell her all. 

“If I have been deceived and that woman still 
lives, Jeanne shall decide whether the law shall 
free me and unite us or whether we are to await 
Heaven’s time.” 

The more his mind dwelt on this phase of the 
matter, the calmer he became. Such is the conso- 
lation of a clear conscience! 

“ The truth must prevail and neither Jeanne nor 
I will hide ourselves from our duty — ” he cried, 
speaking out to himself in exultant tones, as he 
once more recognized the blueness of the sky and 
the freshness of the air. 

All hopelessness and helplessness suddenly slipt 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 115 

away and he was now buoyant with a courage that 
was born of his own moral rectitude and his faith 
in Jeanne. 

In spite of the intense strain and excitement 
through which he had passed, his splendid health 
and the relief which came of haying decided upon 
his next step, served in good stead in his struggle to 
regain his self-possession. 

The late breakfast hour at Mrs. Marston’s 
enabled him to join the family circle in proper and 
ample time, as well as to write the note to Jeanne 
and dispatch it to her, with the flowers. 

******** 

Mr. and Mrs. Marston quite flattered themselves 
upon possessing an exceptional coterie of friends, 
and there were many good reasons for this. Their 
house combined comfort and elegance, every part 
being perfect in itself and every guest sure of a 
cordial welcome to its hospitality, whether it was 
claimed for an hour or a month. 

Gilbert Marston cared but little for society out- 
side his own walls. In fact his chief delight was 
in a “box” on the lake shore where, with his 
favorite dogs and books and a man or two, he was 
wont to beguile many a pleasant hour. 

The habits of bachelor life were difficult to throw 
off, since he had married somewhat late in life, and 


116 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


even the company of his beautiful wife failed, at 
times, to quiet his restless craving for the woods 
and the water to which before meeting her, be had 
always turned for enjoyment. 

Agnes was too clever a woman to make any 
protest when she recognized the symptoms of an 
approaching “ trip to the wilds,” as she collectively 
designated her husband’s wanderings — only she 
always took good care to make all his home com- 
ings bright and gladsome. 

The North Broadway neighborhood had a charm 
of its own, somewhat unique and altogether delight- 
ful, made up as it was of families who generally 
spend at least six months in Saratoga and of an- 
other goodly number who call no other place home. 

These fortunate folk have wealth, taste and 
tact, in goodly measure, with no morbid lack or 
superfluity of family pride to stand in the way of 
the giving of their best to the world at large. 

Probably there is no place in the world where 
individual worth goes so . far in securing social 
recognition as in Saratoga. 

So long as a man or a woman inspires confidence 
and respect and brings to the “ Great Spa ” their 
personal, mental or monied possessions, they will 
be sure of a cordial reception and following; but 
wealth alone secures less homage here than any of 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 117 

life’s other gifts, while even a “ pedigree ” has to 
yield to the supremacy of brilliant talents and a 
good address. 

Agnes Marston’s great ambition was to make her 
house a centre for artistic and intellectual lights. 
Exceptionally graceful and charming herself, she 
laid no claim to any particular gift except that of 
gathering together and assimilating clever people, 
but of that she made a fine art. Her “ At Homes ” 
were always crowded, her dinners were the delight 
of those fortunate enough to attend them, and there 
seemed no limit to her ingenuity in varying her 
methods of entertainment. 

An appreciative friend and a near neighbor 
voiced this well by declaring that “ Mrs. Marston 
should be in the ‘ White House ’ ! ” 

Just now her family circle was limited to two or 
three pretty “ Trojan ” girls, as many men — Gil- 
bert’s cronies — and her two brothers. 

Mark Westland lacked his brother’s vigor as 
well as his happy temperament. This was his first 
visit to Saratoga, several of his recent years hav- 
ing been passed on the continent, and he now found 
himself a blase man of the world, but little at home 
in the sweet wholesome atmosphere of the domestic 
circle and uncommonly at odds with everything 
and everybody. 


118 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Much of this — in his own mind all of it — was 
due to the invalided condition which had brought 
him to his sister’s home and nursing and he hardly 
knew whether the most of this unrest was mental 
or physical. 

To live any length of time in a country place, 
with no clubs, theatres, crowds or excitement, 
seemed to him the least desirable of many undesir- 
able experiences, but, hardly feeling equal to any- 
thing else for the time being and realizing the abso- 
lute necessity of replenishing his exhausted system, 
he had lost no time in absorbing the maximum of 
luxury and self-indulgence afforded in his sister’s 
well-ordered establishment, careless alike of the 
pleasures or opinions of others. 

Even Agnes’ natural affection and sisterly sense 
of duty were severely strained to the limits of for- 
bearance by his extreme selfishness, and, in the 
secret depths of her heart, she wondered at the con- 
trast between her two brothers. 

As Stephen left the breakfast room, that memor- 
able morning, he said to Mark : “ Brace up, my 
boy, and take one of the girls for a good long ride 
this morning. It will put new life in you and my 
horse will show you more of Saratoga, than the 
combined efforts of Agnes and all the turnouts can 
in a week.” 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 119 


Which piece of brotherly impertinence, received 
prompt and vigorous retribution from Agnes, in the 
form of a plump, sofa cushion, fired with excep- 
tional accuracy of aim and only avoided by Stephen 
by a masterly dodge. 

He thrust his head in at the door, however, long 
enough to suggest his sister’s fitness for a member- 
ship in the “Rifle Club,” and then disappeared 
down the street. 

As great as he felt the issues of the approaching 
interview must be, in any case, Stephen Westland 
could not overcome the steadfast gladness which 
sustained his soul and made him feel equal to any- 
thing. 

He had coped with evil in beguiling and heart- 
breaking guise ; had sacrificed his first and freshest 
manhood to a miserable illusion, and had tasted 
more than the bitterness of death in being forced 
to acknowledge this to his. own heart. Then came 
years of regret, self abeyance, and general scepti- 
cism. But his nature was too large and noble to 
be dwarfed by misfortune. Slowly but surely out 
of the faith, which he had never lost, in divine 
goodness and omnipotence he regained his moral 
balance and tone as well as his original ideal of 
womanliness, though the latter seemed, for so long, 
denied his possession. 


120 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Little by little, Jeanne Langley bad become tbe 
sweet living embodiment of that long-cherished 
ideal. He knew her to be that fairest work of the 
Creator — a Christian gentlewoman — full of frank 
and delicate impulses, and as honest in thought as 
she was in word and deed. 

That she loved him, made the future a new world 
to them both. That he could trust her to act from 
principle, was the comfort of his heart and a consider- 
ation almost strong enough to obliterate all the pos- 
sible pain before them. 

On he went, by the “ Gables ” from whence a rich 
penetrating voice brought to him the refrain of a 
favorite song ; past the former home of the lately 
deceased millionaire banker, whose name was synon- 
omous with philanthropy and generosity ; past the 
Mannering’s fascinating “ Do-drop-in ” cottage and 
a group of young people who were just starting out 
for a tramp and loudly clamored for his company 
and still on, past the various temptations presented 
to him on all sides to stay his steps, until Mrs. 
Maxwell’s spacious grounds and handsome house 
were reached. 

It so happened that Jeanne saw him coming. 
In fact, he caught her in the very act of holding 
back the curtain draperies, the better to feast her 
eyes upon him. 

It followed, naturally enough, that she ran to 


STEPHEN’S RACE WITH HIS FEARS. 121 


admit him without any aid of the official guardians 
of the portals, and it also followed, quite as nat- 
urally, that the morning room became the scene of 
a very pretty ,and extremely affectionate tableau 
vivant which brought to Jeanne's heart the double 
bliss of gratification and reparation, though it did 
cost Stephen a fleeting doubt as to his duty, in the 
face and eyes of all things which were to be con- 
sidered. 

He certainly would have deserved a place among 
the saints and martrys, if he had repulsed such 
exquisite lovliness, granting it to have been his 
duty. 

The more fully he realized her purity of charac- 
ter, which scorned reserve; her child-like sim- 
plicity, which unquestioningly accepted his love 
and gave full confidence in return, the more his 
heart shrank from disturbing this perfect state of 
mutual happiness with ny discussion of ugly pos- 
sibilities, however imperative they might seem 
to be. 

The lounge being especially roomy, Stephen 
had prevailed upon Jeanne to assume her custom- 
ary position, as an invalid, in one of its corners, 
while, in place of the very comfortable but now 
quite superfluous cushions, his arm did duty — her 
pretty head reposing on his shoulder. 

“ Dear love, let us be happy for a few moments,” 


122 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


lie whispered, kissing her soft cheek and white 
forehead; and Jeanne yielded contentedly to his 
caress. 

Having had scores of would-be lovers, no one 
of whom had ever dared so much as touch her 
hand with a lover’s right, she now joyously 
accepted the endearments of the man who had won 
her heart. 

There was a feeling of self rebuke in her sensi- 
tive soul, that Stephen should love her so much 
when she had, only the night before, cherished 
such doubts of him, and she questioned the duty 
of immediately telling him the whole story. All 
that restrained her, was the fear of seeming to 
force him into a revelation of his past history 
which, for some good and sufficient reason, he was 
not ready to make. Her love had wiped out even 
curiosity. She was certain, in her own mind, of 
his rectitude and quite willing to await his choice 
of time for any explanations that he should con- 
sider necessary ; still, it would have been a relief 
to her own feelings to have acknowledged what 
she considered her lack of faith. Thus she pon- 
dered, while Stephen held her close and braced 
himself for what he knew he must say — and 
a pretty picture they made, there in the morning 
light. 


XIV. 


THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY. 


’EANNE, sweet one !* do you love me enough 
to trust me entirely ? ” said Stephen, after 
some minutes of silent joy — thinking it 
time, now, to prepare the way for his story. 

Jeanne felt the question a stab ; a punishment 
for her recent fault. She trembled and raised her 
tearful eyes to him. 

“ Stephen,” she faltered, “ I never again will 
doubt you.” 

“ Again ! have you already doubted me ? ” he 
cried, drawing her face more fully into the light; 
then, startled at the look of shame and remorse he 
saw upon it, he said : “ My dear love, I am much 
older than you; my life has been crowned with 
suffering and the chief cause of it all has been 
deception.” 

“ I will tell you everything that can affect or 
interest you, in connection with my past life 4 with- 
out reserve, and you will grant me the same confi- 
dence. Shall it not be so, Jeanne ? ” 

Jeanne gathered her courage for a full confession. 

123 


124 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Iler one wish at this moment was to unburden her 
heart of its uttermost fault. Every word that 
Stephen so tenderly and trustingly spoke, proved 
to her anew his worth, and, at the same time, mag- 
nified her own short comings. 

She conceived herself too much trusted and felt 
she must at once make Stephen acquainted with 
the temporary misgivings which so burdened her 
conscience. 

Moving a little away from him, the better to 
control herself, she said ; 

“ Stephen, you know I had much to shake my 
nerves lately and perhaps I am not altogether 
responsible for foolish whims and fancies,” — and 
then she told him of her slow awakening in the 
corner of the dimly lighted drawing-room, of his 
sister’s words and of their effect upon her. 

She enlarged upon Margaret’s sympathy ; 
touched lightly upon her friend’s antagonism to 
him ; confessed her own speedy recovery of her 
“senses” and her unqualified confidence in him 
now. And then, with tender gestures and loving 
words, she begged his forgivenness and his future 
faith in her loyalty. 

He had hard work to keep from interrupting her 
continually, she was so touchingly charming and 
magnanimous in her self forgetfulness. 


THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY. 


125 


When she stopped speaking lie took her hands 
and kissed them reverently. Then putting them 
on her lap he arose and stood before her. 

“ Jeanne,” he answered, gravely, “ I will tell 
you my story now and then you can judge me from 
your own best wisdom and decide what is right for 
us both.” 

Up and down the bright room he slowly paced 
for a moment. Jeanne watching him patiently with 
no fear in her heart. 

At last he came to her again, arranged her 
cushions carefully and — putting himself on proba- 
tion — sat down near enough to touch her occasion- 
ally, but leaving a bit of unoccupied space on the 
lounge between them, subject to her future 
bestowal. 

Calmly and frankly he told her of his boyish 
days and of his mother. Then he spoke of Elsie’s 
introduction into the family circle — of her beauty, 
talents and powers of fascination, passing swiftly 
on to their days of romance and their marriage. 

When he reached this point, Jeanne hid her face 
in her hands and trembled so violently that 
Stephen in great alarm, knelt before her and 
asked her if he should stop; but she controlled 
herself, and, stroking his face, answered, “No, 
dear ! tell me all.” 


126 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


After that he did not stop until she had been 
told every thing, even to the fear which bad been 
inspired by Margaret’s words to him, that morning. 

She seemed to forget herself in her sympathy for 
him and it nearly broke his heart to see how white 
and worn her face had grown, in her intense inter- 
est in his tragic story. 

“ Jeanne, Jeanne ! my sweet brave love ! if you 
say so, I will go and leave you to forget all this,” 
he cried, in his unselfishness. 

Her face lit up with a wan little smile. 

“Do not worry about me, Stephen, but let us 
think what is right and best for us to do.” 

Pulling him down by her, on the lounge a mo- 
ment, she whispered, “ Kiss me once more, Stephen,” 
— There was a silence after which Jeanne drew her- 
self a little away from him and said, 

“ Let us call Madge and ask her to tell us, when 
and where she saw — her.” 

Ringing the bell she sent the maid for Margaret 
and rested wearily on her cushion while she waited. 
The strain was beginning to tell on her and her 
heart, while brave, and holding no thought of blame 
against Stephen, sank in view of the possibilities 
before them both. 

Margaret, in answer to her summons entered the 


THE MAN IN THE DOORWAY. 127 

room so gently that she stood by Jeanne’s side be- 
fore she was aware of her presence. 

“ Do you need me, Jeanne? ” she asked. 

The tone was stern and her look unsmiling. She 
dared not indulge in any tenderness toward the girl 
she felt she must soon wound so terribly. 

She took it for granted that the cause of all this 
misery had been working upon Jeanne’s credulity 
and so instantly nerved herself to meet the neces- 
sity of opening Jeanne’s eyes to Stephen’s true 
character — fancying that the time had now come. 

Jeanne’s next words, however, almost paralyzed 
her. “ Sit down Madge, please, and tell us all you 
know about — about Mrs. Westland. It is neces- 
sary that we should have all the information possi- 
ble, that we may act justly to her and ourselves.” 

Is this calm, firm, reasonable woman her Jeanne? 
— Margaret wondered. What new cunning, she 
asked herself, had been brought to bear upon 
Jeanne by this prince of deceit, that he had fore- 
stalled the disclosure of his baseness and the dis- 
grace of his old life, and in such a way as to still 
retain his right to stand in the presence of this 
wronged girl ! — And where were the symptoms of 
wild and overwhelming misery, which she had 
been preparing herself to meet, console, and as far as 
possible, mitigate, with sympathy? 


128 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


As she stood in speechless amazement and silence, 
Stephen added his wish to Jeanne’s that she should 
tell “everything.” 

Then, since his jn^nnej; was so sincere, she sud- 
denly decided that the man was mad , and her heart 
softened toward him a little, but before she could 
decide just what to do and while she was still half 
doubting her own senses, a door, which was facing 
her, but which was directly behind her companions, 
opened and her bewildered gaze fell upon a second 
man, to all appearance so exactly the facsimile of 
Stephen Westland that the door- way might have 
been a mirror with Stephen facing it. 

Margaret’s start and expression of amazement, 
attracted the attention of both Jeanne and Stephen 
and the latter, turning, saw his brother Mark hesi- 
tating on the threshold, with his eyes so riveted 
upon Margaret, that no one else in the room made 
the slightest impression upon him. 


CHAPTER XV . 


THE MISFORTUNES OF RESEMBLANCE. 



brother Mark, Miss Langley — Miss 
Seldon ” — explained Stephen, and then, 
v noticing his abstraction, he exclaimed, 
“Why Mark ! what is the matter, man ? 
you look as if you saw a ghost,” and turning to 
Jeanne, Stephen whisperingly added, “ He has been 
very ill and really ought to be at home.” 

But Mark made no response to the introduction 
and still stood like a statue, looking at Margaret, 
who, in turn seemed quite as much amazed at sight 
of him. 

Stepping forward, then, and laying a hand on 
Mark’s shoulder, Stephen gently drew him into the 
room. 

Slowly regaining possession of his faculties, Mark 
confusedly apologized for his strange behavior, say- 
ing that the closeness of the room had quite over- 
come him. He then explained to Stephen that 
Agnes had sent him to invite the ladies to join a 
driving party to the lake that afternoon, and that 
he hoped he might take back a favorable answer. 

129 


130 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


He had no idea Stephen was before him, he said, 
and so had brought a note of introduction from 
Mrs. Marston, begging Jeanne to “ entertain my 
brother Mark, until I call for him, on my way 
home.” 

All the while he spoke, Margaret watched him, 
greatly excited and apparently making a_ swift 
comparison of the two men. She closely and 
breathlessly noted the insincerity of Mark’s voice 
and the peculiar dropping of his eyelids as he 
glanced at her. 

Each moment brought the conviction more fully 
to her, that she had done Stephen a terrible injus- 
tice and she fervently hoped that it might be so, 
even though it made her soul sink within her to 
realize the possibility of her having been guilty of 
such cruelty. 

For the first time she looked at Stephen fairly, as 
he and Mark carried on a rather forced conversa- 
tion with Jeanne, who remarked upon the great 
resemblance between the two brothers and rallied 
Stephen upon never having spoken of it. 

“ It is an old story to us,” he answered. “ It 
never occurred to me that every body did not know 
Mark and I are twins.” 

Margaret was now seized with a determination 
to test her suspicions. Carelessly passing out on a 


THE MISFORTUNES OF RESEMBLANCE. 131 

little vemada, upon which the side windows opened, 
she bided her time, and, like some charmed thing, 
lured in spite of itself, to its fate, Mark Westland 
followed her. 

The moment they were hidden from the inmates 
of the morning-room, Margaret turned upon him 
with, “ Where is Beatrice, Mr. Westland ? ” 

He seized her arm so roughly as to leave a mark 
on its soft flesh, but she did not feel it, so intensely 
was she watching him. 

‘‘Where did you come from?” he demanded, 
hoarsely. 

“No matter, sir! answer my question. Where is 
Beatrice ? ” 

“ My dear girl,” he answered, with suddenly 
feigned carelessness, “ I haven’t the least idea ! I 
have never seen her since I left ‘Great Oaks.’ I 
hope all is well with her.” 

Margaret, fully assured now that she had made a 
terrible mistake attempted to return to Jeanne and 
Stephen, but Mark stepped before her and blocked 
the way. 

With covert and crafty Tooks and the smoothest 
of words he tried to make her understand that it 
would be most impolitic for her to resurrect any 
old time experience of hers or his. 

“ What took place in those days, interests no one 


132 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


here and yon were so involved, that it would be 
unfortunate if any knowledge of the matter should 
come to your friends here,” was the conclusion of 
his decidedly selfish argument. 

“You may always count on me to shield you 
from all blame, however, and above all things else, 
you may count on my being silent 

Margaret managed to control herself sufficiently 
to merely bow and pass him, leaving him unan- 
swered and wholly unenlighted as to her inten- 
tions or her estimate of him. 

Returning to Jeanne, she spoke in her usual calm 
way, though it was plain to see that she was in a 
mood greatly differing from the one which prevailed 
when Jeanne’s maid summoned her. 

“ Dear, excuse me a momeni if I ask Mr. Stephen’s 
help in placing that new water color; his eye for 
effect, is so much more trustworthy than mine.” 

Moving toward the music-room, which also did 
duty as a picture-gallery and begging Stephen to 
follow her, she stopped at the door to add, “ Mr. 
Mark will entertain you, Jeanne.” 

But “ Mr. Mark ” seemed strangely pre-occupied 
and decidedly uneasy during their absence, and 
Jeanne was heartily glad to have them return and 
to hear Stephen say, “Agnes has forgotten you, 
Mark, for she just drove by, and we must follow.” 


THE MISFORTUNES OF RESEMBLANCE. 133 

Making their au revoirs and carrying away to 
Agnes their regrets that they could not accept hei 
invitation for the afternoon, as Jeanne was not yet 
equal to so much exertion, the brothers took their 
leave and as long as they were in sight Margaret 
watched them, while Jeanne somewhat impatiently 
watched her. 

11 So much mystery • ” she thought. “ Why does 
not Madge explain ! ” 

But Jeanne did not have long to wait and when 
Margaret turned toward her, all her impatience and 
questioning vanished. 

The bitterness had gone from Margaret’s mouth, 
the scorn from her eyes, and there was nothing left 
but benumbing weakness. 

Tears chased each other over her quivering face 
and her trembling limbs seemed hardly able to bear 
her to the lounge, where she sank into Jeanne’s 
open arms. 


XYI. 


THOSE WHO SOW, REAP. 



^ARK WESTLAND devoutly wished 
himself any where else on this mundane 
sphere than just where he was, that 
bright September morning, as he left 
Mrs. Maxwell’s, with his brother. 

As much a man of the world as he prided him- 
self in being, and as often as he had found himself 
in undesirable positions, he had never before felt 
the extremely uncomfortable helplessness which 
now beset him in every sense. 

Glancing at Stephen’s splendid proportions and 
noting his super-abundant vitality, he felt a great 
pang of envy which was only increased by the 
knowledge that his own reckless extravagance had 
dispersed his patrimony, dissipated his strength 
and stranded him upon the generosity of the man 
whose advice he had always scorned. It is hardly 
to be wondered^ at, that the additional burden of 
having an old escapade brought to light, should 
have reduced him to unwonted depths of dis- 
couragement. 

134 


THOSE WHO SOW, REAP. 


185 


Stephen had just heard a new chapter of his 
brother’s life, with mixed disgust and sorrow. 

His own life had run in such different channels, 
that it was out of the question for him to enter into 
a full conception of the outcome of a career abso- 
lutely devoid of any other motive than self indul- 
gence, and his first impulse, on becoming acquainted 
with the story that Margaret told him in the music- 
room, was to turn from his brother in cold con- 
tempt. 

As they walked along shoulder to shoulder, 
Stephen seriously reviewed the various bearings of 
the situation ; how could he best attain justice for 
all. Natural affection and the sacred ties of blood 
and family pride, as well as an almost morbid 
shrinking from seeing or giving pain, lent a keen- 
ness to his perceptions and before they had gone 
far he had determined upon his course of action. 

“ Mark,” he said, “ I know every thing and there 
must be an end, at once, to the great wrong you 
are daily inflicting upon an innocent girl. 

“ I can see no reason for involving any one in an 
unpleasant publicity — such as the facts of your past 
life would bring upon them, and so, let us avoid 
that, and work out the right as quietly as possible.” 

He paused for a response, but Mark had lighted 


136 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


a cigar, and gave no sign of what was passing in 
his mind. 

“ I suppose you are willing and ready to do your 
part, old fellow,” Stephen added, wondering to 
himself how a man in his brother’s position could 
seem so indifferent. 

A shrug of the shoulders suggested a possible 
question and fired even Stephen’s patient soul. 
They had just turned into their sister’s grounds 
and there was no time to be lost, if Agnes was to 
be saved the mortification and worry of the present 
dilemma, and Stephen had made up his mind on 
that point. 

“ Sit down a moment and let us settle this busi- 
ness now,” he said, taking one of the garden 
chairs at hand and pushing another toward Mark. 
“Now, what do you propose doing?” 

Mark made himself as comfortable as the cir- 
cumstances would allow, tipping one chair at a 
restful angle and bracing his feet against another, 
while he leaned his head against a tree trunk and 
slowly puffed little rings of smoke toward the sky. 

Without changing his position or looking at 
Stephen, he finally said, “ Confound my luck ! it is 
all very well to say ‘something must be done!’ 
but what in time can a man do without money or 


THOSE WHO SOW, REAP. 


137 


health. I wish I had the pluck to end my bothers. 
Life is a bore ! ” 

Stephen repressed all the signs of impatience he 
felt, at the egotism and selfishness so unreservedly 
shown, at a time when other than personal consid- 
erations had the first claim to Mark’s attention. 
But he could not entirely avoid a feeling of bitter- 
ness, as he recalled how sorely Mark had tried Lis 
patience during the last few years; how often lie 
had been called upon to meet the demands of heavy 
gambling debts, the duns of angry creditors and 
the unrest of varied unpleasant possibilities, liable 
at any moment to be thrown carelessly upon his 
willing and always generous shoulders, by this ease- 
loving, reckless brother. Might it not be that now, 
though with depleted strength and a tarnished con- 
ception of the real prerogatives of life, the time had 
come when this man could be forced to take his 
place among responsible, earnest, worthy workers 
and gain balance and decency of purpose, through 
tardy effort. 

“Mark,” said Stephen, after a pause, “You are 
too young and too clever a man to yield your place 
in life yet. Are you perfectly satisfied to slip 
along, among the kind of people you generally are 
with, and never know any other companionship or 
pleasures? ” 


138 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


“ Oh, my people and pleasures suit me well 
enough, with a plenty of money to keep things 
going. It is money that makes success,” answered 
Mark, quite untouched by the appeal in Stephen’s 
tone and words. 

A few more whirls of smoke, were lazily sent 
skyward and then he added, 

“ I tell you old man, I am strapped ! dead broke ! 
couldn’t raise a hundred to save my neck ! so what 
is the use of talking. I know verj^ well that you 
have done the generous thing by me altogether too 
often, and I am not going to ask you to do any more ; 
but, for Heaven’s sake, don’t preach at me, for I 
never was cut out for a saint and I won’t be a 
hypocrite.” 

“ But, Mark, you are an able-bodied man ; 
another month will bring you out as good as new 
and you’ll then be equal to re-establishing yourself 
and doing the square thing by others. How I will 
make you an offer ” — and here followed a some- 
what prolonged business talk, during which 
Stephen’s face grew bright again and Mark actually 
threw off his apathy so much as to make them look 
more than ever like each other. But Agnes spied 
them from the dining-room window and called out 
with house- wifely impatience, “ Why in the world 


THOSE WHO SOW, HEAP. 


139 


are you keeping us all waiting? Luncheon has been 
served for half an hour ! ” 

“Not a word to her, Mark, on your honor,” 
Stephen said, as they responded to the summons 
and entered the house. 

“All right, Steve! you are a trump!” answered 
Mark, warmly. 


XVII. 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 

! T seemed weeks instead of hours to Stephen 
Westland before he again stood in the still, 
sunny morning room at Mrs. Maxwell’s. 
^ Since leaving Jeanne and Margaret, he had 
come to a kindly but practical and definite arrange- 
ment with Mark and had the comfort of feeling 
that the idolized mother herself could not have 
been more gentle or more considerate, while he 
really indulged a faint hope that the future might 
prove Mark less unworthy of his love and sym- 
pathy than the past had. 

A few words with Agnes had convinced her of 
his perfect right to claim and hold Jeanne’s heart 
and hand. He felt it just to all concerned now, 
that the one cloud which had over-shadowed his 
intercourse with his sister should be dispelled, and 
there was a solemn consolation in the thought that 
death had drawn a veil which would make any 
painful disclosure unnecessary. Agnes Marston 
never will know half the wrongs her brother had 
suffered, and so, may still cherish a half-regretful 
140 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 


141 


memory of the beautiful but misguided aud ill- 
fated sister-in-law who “ was so inappreciative of 
dear Stephen ” as she expressed it, but she quickly 
put all that by as a vanished fruitage of the past, 
aud most gladly accepted a new opportunity of 
showing her own real and deep affection for her 
brother by sending a sisterly greeting to Jeanne. 

“ Tell her I am coming directly, myself, to let 
her know what I think of you both,” she said 
laughingly to Stephen, as he left her for Jeanne and 
the explanation which the latter was still awaiting. 
* * * * * * * 

Poor Margaret’s nerves had at last yielded to the 
long strain upon them and Jeanne had made sun- 
dry vain attempts at quieting and soothing the 
hysterical condition into which her hitherto self- 
reliant friend had fallen. 

With tears and sobs she had thrown herself 
down by Jeanne and in broken and often incoherent 
words bewailed the cruel mistake she had made. 

“ How could I have done it ? Why was I so 
obstinate. Why did I not see the difference ! ” 
she moaned, over and over again. 

Jeanne caressed her and tried to comfort her, 
all the while trying also to catch some explanation 
of the cause for all this excitement, but Margaret 
raved on. 


142 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


“ Oh ! how can I quiet her,” Jeanne finally cried 
to herself, now more alarmed about Margaret than 
worried about her own affairs. Still the half 
crazed girl muttered and sobbed on, lying prone 
upon the lounge where Jeanne had half coaxed and 
half dragged her. 

After a while exhaustion produced an uneasy 
sleep and Jeanne’s place was supplemented by 
her maid while she went in search of refreshments 
to fortify herself for what might yet be before her. 

Mrs. Maxwell received the bare fact of Marga- 
ret’s indisposition without surprise or questioning, 
and Jeanne’s quiet reserve evidently impressed her 
aunt as being in every way consistent with her 
still convalescent state. 

“ Take a good long nap this afternoon, dear,” she 
said. “ You do not look quite like yourself yet. 
I have been at the ‘ Home 1 all the morning and 
must go straight out again. We are planning a 
final ‘tea’ before everybody goes away. You and 
Margaret will have to help, but you do not look 
much like it now.” 

Tenderly tapping her niece’s white cheek, she 
left the room for her afternoon work — soon followed 
by Jeanne who heard Stephen’s voice in the hall 
and ran swiftly to meet him. 

“ Oh, Stephen ! how glad I am to see you ! ” she 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 


143 


cried eagerly. “ Our poor Madge is quite worn out 
with all this trouble and I am entirely in the. 
dark.” 

She stood before him with her blue eyes full of 
tears and a tremor of faintness seemed stealing 
over her again as Stephen’s arm caught her tremb- 
ling figure. 

“Poor child! do you not know yet? All this 
time in suspense ? It is cruel,” he said. “Come 
into the library while Margaret rests and I will 
repeat to you what she so delicately and bravely 
told me this morning then we will both thank her 
again.” 

“ My love ! my love,” he whispered when at last, 
they were alone in the library, and then, folding 
her in his strong arms, he fully realized how nar- 
rowly his happiness had escaped a frightful if not 
fatal suspension. 

Jeanne begged to be at once told what there yet 
remained to be known and then came the story of 
Margaret’s life in a distant southern city, with her 
first engagement as companion, after the death of 
her mother and her consequent homelessness. 

This family had consisted of an influential 
lawyer, his wife, a son — then in college — and a 
daughter, but little younger than Margaret. 

Beatrice Campbell had been an invalid during 


144 : 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


her girlhood, and seemed hardly more than a child, 
in spite of her sixteen years. 

Of rare beauty and exceeding lovliness of char- 
acter, she was wonderfully free from the usual 
effects of great luxury and incessant petting, and 
seemed to forget herself in living for the pleasure 
and good of others. Having spent her life in her 
sumptuous country home, surrounded by devoted 
relatives, and friends, she knew absolutely nothing 
of outside people or things, except as she got her 
impressions from the carefully culled literature and 
art with which she was surfeited. 

Max, her brother, was much away from home. 
It having been deemed necessary that his education 
should be conducted upon the most liberal founda- 
tions, he had been placed at one of the best boy’s 
schools in the country when but twelve years old, 
and since then had only spent his vacations at 
home. 

Unfortunately, he had become a fast and disso- 
lute youth and the source of great anxiety to his 
parents. 

Margaret shrank from him with intuitive aver- 
sion, on first acquaintance, while he by force of 
the subtle charm of steadfast opposition, became 
more and more fascinated by and attracted to her. 

Margaret’s peculiar strength of character and her 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 


145 


natural tact, soon placed her in much the same atti- 
tude toward Beatrice that she now held toward 
Jeanne and she quickly found herself forced to con- 
fess to her friend that Max tormented her by his 
attentions whenever he spent his vacations with 
them : then, the two conspired to prevent tete-a - 
tetes, at the same time, trying to avoid making his 
home coming anything but happy. 

On one of his visits, he brought with him his 
especial friendy Mark Westland. 

Mark was enough older and more than enough 
better versed in the ways of the world, to find no 
difficulty in setting himself up as a sort of model 
and leader in all things to Max, and it suited his 
purposes admirably to have so faithful an ally in his 
numerous plottings and escapades. 

Remarkably handsome, polished and intelligent, 
it became an easy task to attract and then fascinate 
his friend’s sister. Indeed, he might have wooed 
and won her in open and honorable suit, for no one 
would have put any obstacle in his way ; but they 
both drifted along in the pleasant paths of senti- 
ment beneath the blue skies and blossom-scented 
groves of Louisiana, until Beatrice horrified Mar- 
garet one night by confessing to her that Mark and 
she were man and wife. They had been secretly 
married, just before he went away, by the clergy- 
10 


146 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


man of a parish in a distant quarter of the city near 
them, and she concluded her confession by adding 
that “ Mark would soon come and claim her.” 

In answer to Margaret’s question, “ Why did you 
do it? Oh, how could you do it?” she looked sur- 
prised, as any child might, who in no wise realized 
the importance of the step, and only said, “ Mark 
said if I loved him I would make him sure of me 
— and so I did. Why! dear Margaret — what does 
it matter, if no one knows. It was only to prove 
to him that I do love him — and he is coming very 
soon.” Then she made Margaret promise silence 
and for weeks their topic, or rather Beatrice's, of 
conversation was Mark — his love for her — hers for 
him and his speedy return. 

But, alas ! the too trusting child waited m vain. 
Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, 
until even letters ceased to come and all the infor- 
mation that could be gained of Mark Westland’s 
where-abouts came through Max, who unwittingly 
added the last touch of mortification and despair to 
his young sister’s heart by writing of Mark’s con- 
quests, his travels and his general hilarity, but not 
a message or a line came from him to Beatrice. 

Many times did Margaret implore Beatrice to let 
her tell her father and mother and have their pro- 
tection and support in compelling Mark Westland 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 


147 


either to return or relinquish all claim upon her, 
but the poor, humiliated girl could not summon 
courage enough to go through with such an ordeal, 
dreading her parents’ wrath against him almost 
as much as she shrank from forcing herself upon 
the man she had so loved and believed in. 

Margaret had suffered, too, as only a naturally 
truthful and open-hearted girl can, when put in a 
false position and compelled to conceal the truth. 

Finally, Beatrice grew so ill and depressed in 
spirits that her physician ordered her to have an 
entire change of scene, and, as if her burdens were 
not heavy enough, just as they were ready to start 
for Europe, Margaret was called to devote herself 
to her only remaining relative — a maiden aunt — 
whose claim upon her could not be set aside. 

So was Beatrice Campbell deprived of her great- 
est comforter and best friend. 

Margaret, after soothing the last days of her 
aunt, found herself, once more, alone and home- 
less. 

Just at this time, Jeanne Langley was visiting 
near Margaret’s aunt’s home, and* learning that 
Miss Selden was desirous of securing a situation as 
companion, had engaged her services, so opening 
a new chapter in both their lives. 

Having brought the story to Jeanne’s participa- 


148 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


tion in it — though only able to outline it from Mar- 
garet’s hasty telling — Stephen went on to say, 

“ Margaret, perhaps morbidly, but none the less 
intensely, feels herself responsible for all this con- 
cealment. She could never bring herself to tell 
even you any thing of it, Jeanne. Never dreaming 
of seeing Mark Westland again, you can imagine 
her feelings when I appeared among your admirers. 
She knew nothing of Mark’s family, nothing of 
his having a brother — and never for one instant 
doubted my identity until he and I stood before 
her, side by side. Her loyalty to Beatrice’s confi- 
dence and her fear for you have almost killed her. 
To add to her unhappiness, she saw Beatrice last 
spring, in New York, and so judged my statement 
that my wife was dead as only a fresh proof of my 
villany. 

“ Altogether, it has been a painful ‘ comedy of 
errors, sweet one,” said Stephen in conclusion, end- 
ing his story with many tender endearments, “ and 
we must now take up all these tangled threads and 
endeavor to weave from them a happier future.” 

“ But Stephen,” questioned Jeanne, “how can two 
brothers be so utterly unlike in soul and sodistract- 
ingly the same in appearance? Why! I am afraid 
I shall get you mixed up if 1 do not carefully 
guard against such a calamity : ” and then, slipping 


UNSNARLING THE TANGLES. 


149 


a slender jeweled pin from the lace at her throaty 
she fastened it in his scarf, saying : 

“ Guard it with your life, dear, for I belong to 
its owner.” 


xvm 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 


|ICHARD MANNERING HOWARD spent 
a very bad afternoon with himself, after 
leaving Beatrice Campbell to her maid’s 
care. He had walked out of Congress 
Spring Park, with small thought for his immediate 
future and absolutely no fixed purpose. On he 
strode, past the “Union ” and the “ States ” and up 
North Broadway, until he reached Woodlawn 
Park. 

Neither heat nor fatigue made any impression 
upon him. His battle was with his inner self and 
for his peace of mind, and, so far as he could see, 
there was but little chance of his winning. 

His theories had been one thing, while exper- 
ience was quite another, he now found, to his con- 
sternation. That a man of well disciplined mind, 
should be able to control his affections and 
impulses, was something which he had never 
questioned. He certainly had as good right to 
claim such attributes as any man ever had, yet he 
lacked sufficient force of will to forget that cold 
150 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 151 

face and to turn from the temptation of seeing it 
again. 

He knew how mercilessly another man would 
have been scoffed at by him under the same cir- 
cumstances, and how he would have derided such 
feelings as weak, unmanly and effeminate. How, 
that this had become his state of mind, he learned, 
among other things, a newer charity and broader 
sympathy for his fellow men. 

When he finally turned towards his hotel, the 
only triiimph gained was a mere surface calm, 
which was at least serviceable, in that it enabled 
him to appear about as usual to the people he met. 

For a day or two he hung about the “ States,” 
hoping against hope for some message ; finally, 
remembering his social obligations to Mrs. Haber- 
sham, he called at the Kensington to find that 
Beatrice and her mother had left, the morning after 
her ill turn, for a trip through Lake George and 
the mountains. 

A week more of restlessness brought to him the 
conviction that it was due his nervous system and 
general health that he too should go northward and 
Blanche Atherton’s note found him in comfortable 
quarters at Lake George, instead of Elizabethtown, 
though it was at the former place that he had 
found Mrs. and Miss Campbell, and there that he 


152 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


began the delicate process of re-instating himself in 
tneir daily life. 

Mrs. Campbell had no other objection to his 
presence than that the sight of him always brought 
before her all the tortures of that dreadful time in 
Italy when chance made him the bearer of the 
news of her boy’s tragic death in the burning 
theatre. 

As for Beatrice, she had more reasons for turn- 
ing from him than he, poor fellow, could imagine. 

Since the hasty and almost fatal yielding to 
Mark Westland’s stronger will and fascinations, 
her spirit had known no peace. Deprived of Mar- 
garet Selden’s affectionate companionship, she reso- 
lutely closed her lips and shut within her own 
heart the constantly increasing sting of mortified 
and neglected love. 

The first outward result was physical weakness. 
There were days and weeks when she prayed and 
hoped to die. Possibly she would have died, if her 
father’s sudden illness and death and her brother’s 
horrible end had not aroused her to the necessity of 
comforting and sustaining her almost crazed mother. 

Then came the reaction. The fascination which 
she had not unnaturally mistaken for love, began to 
change, little by little ; first, into a bewildered 
doubting of all things ; then came full appreciation 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 153 

of Mark’s utter un worthiness, and, finally, she was 
filled with an intense loathing of the man aod an 
ever present fear of his return. 

Out of all this, grew a morbid shrinking from 
society in general, and from men in particular. 

Then her mental state became one of pitiable 
uncertainty. She found herself suspecting the mo- 
tives of those she was thrown into contact with, and 
feeling that she could never again be sure that every 
one was not acting a part, as she was. She never 
could forget that, being a married woman, she was 
sailing under false colors, and was bound, not only 
to bear whatever punishment came to her bravely, 
but to avoid misleading others and permitting con- 
sequent suffering to come to them. 

When Richard Howard was first thrown into her 
society, she was off her guard. He came by acci- 
dent — if there be any such thing — and, being the son 
of old friends of her parents, he was put upon terms of 
exceptional intimacy at once. She was, too, so 
much younger than Howard and considered herself 
so entirely out of his orbit, that it never occurred to 
her to throw up her usual lines of reserve against 
his friendly advances. 

It naturally followed that, for the first time since 
Mark Westland came into her life, she took a posi- 
tive comfort and satisfaction in the daily events of 


154 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


travel and sight seeing which brought Howard and 
herself into almost constant intercourse and made 
him as one of the family. 

Then came the closer intimacy of great sorrow 
and affliction, and, before she had suspected such a 
possibility, she found herself possessed by a pas- 
sion as deep and strong as it was hopeless. 

Mrs. Campbell never knew why Beatrice fled 
from Milan so suddenly. She would have ques- 
tioned her, if her own heart had not been so 
crushed by its misery. It was there that the fire 
in the theatre had robbed them of the son and 
brother, and so it seemed only natural that the place 
should become unbearable to her child. So they 
went, without warning, leaving only three lines for 
Howard’s comfort : “ Thanks for your great kind- 

ness. We can bear this place no longer. Au revoir 
until time makes us more brave.” 

The next time Howard and Beatrice Campbell 
saw each other was at the close of his reading, in 
the Kensington drawing room. 

Beatrice had learned, through Mrs. Habersham, 
of his being in Saratoga. She had fought out her 
battle stoutly; had remained in her room when- 
ever she knew he was in the neighborhood, and, 
from her window overlooking the Avenue, had 
watched, day after day, for a chance glimpse of 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 155 

him, as he passed. This, too, was at the very time 
when there was no chance of her seeing Margaret 
Selden, who was then by the sea and who had 
heard nothing from or of Beatrice, since early spring, 
when they had met for an hour in New York. 

The morning of the reading had found her weak. 
The longing to hear his voice completely wrecked 
her resolution and she had slipped in by the win- 
dow and placed herself where she fancied she was 
quite safe from discovery. Mrs. Habersham had 
pleaded, it is true, but it was her own heart that 
had conquered her judgment. 

The mask of indifference which she had attained 
by long and bitter effort and which she had effectu- 
ally assumed towards Howard, during the last part 
of their Italian sojourn, covered a warm and emo- 
tional temperament and her subsequent escape to 
Congress Spring Park was prompted by her hope 
of gaining from Nature what only Nature’s God 
could bestow. 

“ Oh, where can peace be found ? ” was her heart’s 
cry. “ Mast I suffer always? ” 

Her thoughts had been of Howard when he saw 
her coming up the winding path in the Park and it 
was not strange that the sudden appearance of 
Stephen Westland, whom she mistook for Mark, 
struck her to the earth. 


156 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Recovering, she fled from Howard, just as she 
had before, with the additional terror of again fall- 
ing into the way of Mark Westland, lending wings 
to her flight ; but only to find herself, at the end of 
a week, sitting opposite Howard in the dining room 
of a mountain hotel. 

Human nature has its limitations of endurance 
and Beatrice at once knew that she had reached 
hers. She held herself in hand with dignity but 
she no longer thought of flight. The intercourse 
between Howard and herself was full of common- 
places, on the surface, but she trembled at the 
knowledge that this was only a thin crusting-over 
of dangerous and profound feeling. 

At last after weeks of patient waiting, Howard’s 
opportunity came. Mrs. Campbell had excused 
herself and left them alone on the hotel piazza, 
with no likelihood of interruption or outside notiee. 
He was prepared for the occasion by long hours 
of deliberation and spoke without hesitation. 

“ Miss Beatrice, ’’ he said, “ I am not going to in- 
flict myself upon you any longer, and before I go 
I must say a few words. I have no reason to 
think or hope that my going or staying is of the 
slightest moment to you. Perhaps I shall seem 
unmanly in confessing, after all your coidnesss, that 
I am — fortunately or unfortunately — so consti- 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 157 

tuted, that you are and always will be the one 
love of my life. In going away, I turn my back 
upon all that makes a lover’s eyes glad ; but I go 
because I have come to that point in my heart 
experience where I know it will soon be out of 
the question for me to meet you with the total 
absence of sentiment which you demand and ex- 
pect. 

“ Will you give me one promise, to make my 
going a little less hard? If the moment ever 
comes when I can serve you in the slightest way, 
either as friend or lover, will you send for me, no 
matter where I may be? for I shall be waiting to 
my dying day ! ” 

He stood by her, with outstretched hands and 
pleading eyes and she — Oh heavens! how cruel 
seemed life to her, at that moment. 

With both hands pressed against her heart and 
every nerve vibrating with the restraint placed upon 
it by her sense of stern duty, she stood and gave 
him a long, kind look. 

“How noble and unselfish you are,” she mur- 
mured. “ How grieved I am that I must cause you 
suffering. Yes, I do promise with all my heart, 
that if I am ever free ” 

“ Free ! Beatrice ! free ! What do you mean ? ” 
he cried. 


158 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


Alas for her! In that moment of self abnegation 
she had given him the one ray of light which 
turned him from a passive, suffering man, into a 
very giant of fierce and determined questioning. 

“ Beatrice, tell me what you mean — free ! do 
you, then, love ? ” he repeated, seizing her hands 
and drawing her close to his bended face. 

“ If you love, tell me,” he pleaded. “ It will be 
kinder to kill my one little spark of hope at once, 
if it must die. Oh Beatrice, tell me all the truth 
— I must know all.” 

Standing back, suddenly, and folding his hands 
behind him, like a soldier preparing for his death 
shot, he added, “You see how calmly I can meet 
my fate. — Free ! That does not mean love — Speak, 
dear heart.” 

She felt the moment to be a vital one and yearned 
to share her wretched secret with him. Why not ? 
Would it not cure him sooner than anything else ? 
His gaze was burning into her heart — She must 
speak. “Richard — Mr. Howard — perhaps I should 
have told you before but — it is so hard to see things 
rightly in time. No one in my family knows — but 
I am married .” 

She had dropped her head and lowered her 
voice, as if convicting herself of a crime. 

He staggered and then recovered himself, all the 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 159 


while looking upon the shrinking figure with eyes 
that saw not ; listening with ears that could not 
comprehend, until he found voice to say, although 
in a wholly unnatural tone — “Married! may I 
know if you love your husband ? ” 

Strange as the question was, it did not offend 
her. 

“You shall know everything,” she answered. 
“ Why not ? What do I owe the man who married 
me — a simple child — in secret and then deserted 
me ? I was but sixteen and knew nothing of the 
world. He was fascinating and vowed he could 
not live without me; that he could not leave me 
for one short week, unless I was made his wife — and 
I believed him, thought I loved him and — we were 
married. He left me within an hour and I never 
saw him again until that morning then you saw me 
faint at his feet in Congress Spring Park.” 

“ Stephen Westland exclaimed Howard, wildly. 

He remembered Stephen’s noble face and bearing 
and felt that all his faith in man must give way, if 
that man could be such a brute. 

The look in his face made her draw back a little 
constrainedly. 

“ Beatrice, forgive me, if I frighten you,” he said, 
“ but there must be some dreadful mistake. Do you 


160 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


mean to say that Stephen Westland is yoiir hus- 
band ? ” 

“ No, not Stephen. His name is Mark Westland 
— that man, at the sight of whom I fainted. Oh 
Richard, how can I love him ! ” 

Sinking in a chair, she covered her face with 
her trembling hands. Howard still dazed, drew 
another chair to her side. 

“ Beatrice,” he faltered, “ I am so stunned that 
even the power of speech is almost denied me. It 
will make things clearer if you will answer a few 
questions. 

“ Does any one know of your marriage, but your 
husband and yourself? ” 

“ Margaret Selden, my companion and best friend.” 

“ Where is she now ? ” 

“ I do not know. Some where at the sea shore 
I think. I have not heard from her for some, 
months. We shall always love each other, but 
the past is so painful that we seldom try to meet.” 

“ Beatrice, are you sure that you do not love that 
man ? ” 

“Sure!” She turned on him with flashing eyes 
and indignantly exclaimed, “ How can you ask such 
a question? Was ever a girl insulted as I have 
been? Was ever a man so cruel ? Sure — I have 
prayed night and day, not to mortally hate him.” 


BEATRICE EXPLAINS HER POSITION. 161 

“ Then you shall be free ! ” he cried, vehemently. 

She flushed and paled at the thought, but laid a 
trembling hand upon his arm. 

“ Bichard, be careful, I cannot bear much more,” 
she said. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“Will you trust me fully and let me act for you 
in this matter? ” 

“ Oh, my friend, I do believe in your wisdom and 
in your deep interest in my welfare — but, what will 
you do? Must I see him ? Must mamma know ? ” 

She was deathly white again and Howard saw 
the necessity of quieting her, without delay. 

“I believe the thing can be managed without 
any publicity, Beatrice. The man is a miserable 
coward — must be — and will be easy to handle ; ” 
and then he forgot all questions of policy for a 
moment and clenched his hands in sudden wrath. 

“ Let me see you safely to your door ; and then, 
Beatrice, may God keep you and help me to do the 
right thing for your happiness. 

I shall be off to Saratoga long before you are up 
in the morning — and now, be brave, just as you 
have been for all these hard years, and I will yet see 
you free from him ! ” 

11 


XIX. 


DAYS OF PROMISE. 

WEEK later, Stephen Westland was sitting 
by his brother’s side, in Mrs. Marston’s 
library. The excitement of the revelations 
connected with Mark’s extrordinary career 
were proving disastrous to that unfortunate man, 
and grave thoughts were now entertained by his 
friends as to his recovery. With the carelessness 
of nature and habit, he had promised speedy justice 
to his neglected wife, as soon as his strength 
returned, and Stephen could not, in his brother’s 
present feeble condition, do any thing more than 
await further developments. 

On this particular afternoon, Mark had fallen into 
a feverish slumber, and, the sound of the door bell 
threatening to disturb him, Stephen carefully tip- 
toed out of the room to admit the guest, before a 
second summons should be given. 

Opening the door noiselessly, he recognized the 
face of Howard as that of the stranger whom he had 
left that noon in July, in Congress Spring Park, 
162 



DAYS OF PROMISE. 


163 


and whose card he had received from the officer at 
the Park gate. 

“ Ah, Mr. Howard ! I am glad to see you. Walk 
in.” 

He checked himself, however, in the very act of 
extending his hand in cordial welcome as he then 
suddenly perceived that Howard was regarding him 
bitterly and contemptuously. 

“Can I see you alone for a few moments?” 
demanded Howard, sternly. 

“ Certainly — walk in,” answered Stephen, wonder- 
ing what ailed the man. 

Opening the door of a small reception room, 
which was the apartment most remote from the 
room where Mark was, Stephen ushered his guest 
into it and asked, “ What can I do for you? ” 

“ Y ou can tell me if you are the husband of Beat- 
rice Campbell?” was the cold answer. 

Stephen Westland’s expression changed instantly, 
as did his manner. 

“ Mr. Howard, I am not,” he replied, “ but my 
brother is. Will you sit down, now, and talk to 
me? You cannot well be more anxious than I am 
to see justice done that poor child, but — ” rising 
quickly — “ follow me one moment and be as quiet 
as you can.” 

Crossing the room, Stephen opened a door, passed 


164 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


down a hall and noiselessly drew aside the portieres 
of a second door, at the end of the hall — beckon- 
ing Howard to look into the room. 

There lay Mark in his invalid chair breathing un- 
evenly and nervously. Bright hectic spots burned 
in his cheeks and his eye-lids were but half closed, 
while his parched lips were parted in the effort for 
breath and his long, thin fingers hung over each 
arm of the chair in an attitude of extreme weak- 
ness. 

Howard looked at him and then felt his rage 
melt away. It was not for him to meddle with a 
dying man. 

Silently they returned to the little room and be- 
fore they parted the past, present and future were 
discussed as only two friends could reveal to each 
other their individual and mutual interests. 

There are natures to whom the conventional pre- 
liminiaries of acquaintanceship are entirely non- 
essential. Richard Mannering Howard and Stephen 
Westland were men of this stamp. 

The next morning, Beatrice received a long 
letter and the tears which were poured out upon it 
came about equally from profound bitterness and 
sweet hope. 

The shadow of death was bringing to her and to 
all who were connected with Mark Westland, a for- 


DAYS OF PKOMISF. 


165 


givenness and charity which years of effort on his 
part might have failed to inspire. Mark West- 
land gave his friends hut little opportunity to nurse 
and watch over him. As he had lived, so he died: 
like a meteor he flashed out of their sight and — 
Beatrice Campbell was free. 

* * * * ***** 

Here we must leave our friends, for deep wounds 
heal slowly, and Beatrice feels a melancholy pleasure 
in forbidding herself the luxury of companionship, 
at present ; though she has long since confessed to 
herself where her heart is, and Howard’s delicate 
forbearance and patience is losing him nothing in 
her estimation. But — if rumors tells truly — Sara- 
toga wedding-bells are to ring right merrily all 
through the spring and summer months now close 
at hand. Pretty Amy Leighton has not been so 
unmindful of her own affairs de cceur as to miss 
securing her “prize” or rather — the man of her 
choice has put all the “ long line ” of suitors behind 
him and they must content themselves with the 
friendship of two charming people instead of one. 
Jeanne Langley and Stephen Westland are planning 
a lovely wedding in Bethesda Church, in the golden 
September days close upon the coming season’s 
close. So everybody will stay that can get an invi- 
tation, for it will be a beautiful sight. The flower- 


166 


A SARATOGA ROMANCE. 


laden chancel, the vested choir and clergy, the 
crowds of loving friends and two such brides as 
Jeanne, golden haired, blue-eyed Jeanne, and her 
beloved Margaret. Yes ! the secret will be known 
by all before long, so why not have the delight of 
telling it first? 

Margaret declares she is only a “ substitute ” and 
would not have had a ghost of a chance with 
“Arthur” if he had been successful in routing 
Stephen. 

Arthur Graham very wisely “ gives her the floor” 
when she begins to talk in that strain, but it is easy 
to see that he is quite satisfied with his “ substitute,” 
and no human being can boast of having received 
the offer of his hand and heart but our loyal 
Margaret, however much or little Mark Westland’s 
appearanee upon the scene may have had to do with 
his choice. 

Blanche Atherton told Mrs. Worthington, early 
this spring, that she believed Mr. Howard must be 
in love, for she never in her life, saw a man so im- 
proved. 

“He was always admirable, you know, but a little 
inclined to be cynical,” she said — “ Now he fairly 
beams with kindness!” 

Kate W orthington smiled to think of the sensation 
in store for “ Dick’s ” immense circle of admirers — 


DAYS OF PROMISE. 


167 


Bostonian and otherwise — but kept her friend’s 
secret. 

Saratoga is said to be an extremely “ impossible ” 
place for lover’s trysts, seclusion and romance, but it 
is doubtful if any spot on this fair continent can 
give more convincing proof to the contrary than 
the famous Spa whose avenues, parks and cottages 
have furnished material for this “ Saratoga Romance.” 






















































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New York Central and Hudson River R. R., 

Along the world-famed Hudson River between New York and Al- 
bany; through the beautiful Mohawk Valley between Al- 
bany and Buffalo, Niagara Falls and the West. 

THE ONLY GREAT FOUR-TRACK RAILROAD IN THE WORLD. 


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THE HIGHLANDS OF THE HUDSON RIVER AS VIEWED FROM THE TRAINS OF THE 
NEW YORK CENTRAL AND HUDSON RIVER RAILROAD. 


All trains arrive at and depart from the Grand Central Station, 
corner 4th Avenue and 42d St., New York. 


For tickets, sleeping-car accommodations, baggage orders, etc., call on 
nearest ticket agent of the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad, 
or the Delaware and Hudson Railroad. 

E. J. RICHARDS, Ass’t Gen’l Passenger Agent 
GEORGE II. DANIELS, Gcn’l Passenger Agent. 



******** * * * * * * * 


* 


THE 

Daily SsBATOfiM, 

SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y., 

A morning paper in summer and an evening paper in 
winter, is read by a large, regular constituency, and by 
almost the entire body of summer tourists in America. 
Thousands of copies are annually read by those in at- 
tendance upon Religious , Political and Industrial Con- 
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other newspaper in the country, is made evident by 
the patronage of the proprietors of summer hotels, 
managers of railroads and steamboat lines, and other 
large public interests. 

Advertising rates and all other information prompt- 
ly furnished. 

D. F. RITCHIE, Editor and Manager. 


****** * ** * **** * ** 


W ARING'S F INE T .1 VER Y, 


Franklin St., Saratoga Springs. 

SINGLE AND DOUBLE CARRIAGES. 

— Patrons Met at Trains. <3<S# — 

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Address by Mail, Telephone, or in Person. 


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IS CALLED TO THE UNPARALLELED DEVELOPMENT OF THE 

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THE SHORTEST ROUTE BETWEEN HEW YORK AND MONTREAL. 



No visitor to Saratoga should fail to take the trip tnrough Lake 
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RE D S PRIN G 



Cor. Spring Ave. and Geneva St., 

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SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y. 



The Red Spring ’Water, 


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Red Spring ’Busses make half-hourly trips through Broadway and 
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A HOST OF BARGAINS 

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The Prices below help to tell the tale : 

50 Chamber Sets, hand painted, with 
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The most reliable and prompt 
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Published Every Week in the Year. 

The Only Democratic Newspaper Published at the 
Great American Spa. 

A Clean, Able, High-toned Family Journal. 

One Dcrl.l&r a in Aidvan.Qe, 

E. P. HOWE, Proprietor and Editor. 


Dr. Robert Hamilton’s 


MEDICAL INSTITUTE, 44 Franklin 
Street, Saratoga Springs. Accommo- 
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is charmingly located, near the principal Springs, Churches and Hotels, 
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The Boarding Department is well regulated. Halls and parlors un- 
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When nornets seek to emphasize 
They make one effort plenty, 

And then is when we realize 
That one is good as twenty. 

One good Instance is often more to the 
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Treatment February 10, 1883, nearly one 
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But your Compound Oxygen Treatment 
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The neighbors all think It a miracle 
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Commercial Point, 111., Jan. 15, 1889. 

Drs. Starkey & Palen’s office records 
show over 50,000 cases in which their 
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by invalids independently. Their bro- 
chure of 200 pages will be forwarded free 
of charge to any one addressing DRS. 
STARKEY & PALEN, No. 1529 Arch St., 
Philadelphia. 


Drs. Strong’s Sanitarium, 

SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y. 

EststTolislxed 1856. 


Open all the year for invalids 
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For descriptive circulars, ad- 
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Drs. S. S. & S. E. Strong. 


K. Mac Call, 

Imported Kid Gloves, 


Gloves for Short Fingers and Extra 
4- Small Hands a Specialty. * 


NO. 58 WEST 23D St., NEW YORK. 


far iimoiff, 
SARATOGA SPRINGS, 


Wedding and Mail Orders 
promptly attended to. 


The Daintiest Shop in Town! 


send or go ro HERRICK & LODEWICK’S ” »> 

Finest * Boots i and * Shoes * in % the * Country, 

AT THE BEST BARGAINS. 

Broadway, Saratoga Springs, New York. 

HEIGH T’S 

Saratoga Custom Laundry, 

24 Phila St„ Saratoga Springs, N. Y, 

All kinds of Laundry work done promptly and at reasonable prices. 
OrdOrs by mail or telephone will receive immediate attention. 

AGENT FOR ELDER’S STEAM DYE WORKS. 

-*• CHURCHILL & HUMPHREY,#- 

DEALERS IN 

Muir, FI aster, 
Kindling, Qkarcoal, Ste., ]£te« 

0 T l^lrlTS lr ^,\ SARATOGA SPRINGS, N.Y. 

Order by Telephone at Yard, or R. C. Fonda’s China Store, 386 B’way. 


T. J. TOTTEN. 

SARATOGA SPRINGS, N.Y., 

FLORIST AND DECORATOR, 


Orders for Parties, Dinners, Marriages and 
Funerals filled promptly. 

Out Flowers, Set Pieces and Plants Furnished at Short Notice 


Fashionable a 

m Summer Home. 

L. B. PUTNAM, 
iVo. 497 Broadway, Saratoga Springs. 


Charmingly located ; perfectly appointed and con- 
ducted. All the features of a refined and elegant 
home. Open through the year to a LIMITED number 
of guests. 



garatoga +Vichy, 

The Only ALKALINE WATER found 
at Saratoga. 

Corrects acidity of the stomach, assists di- 
gestion and regulates the kidneys. 


A FINE TABLE WATER. 


Sold by Grocers and Druggists. For circu- 
lars address 

SARATOGA I VICHY * SPRING t CO., 

Saratoga Springs, N. Y. 


To Housekeepers, Summer Cottagers , and the Public 
in General : 

AVAIL YOURSELVES OF 

Fine I Fireproof f Storage 1 Warehouse, 

SARATOGA, N. Y. 

Goods Stored and Shipped to all parts. Money advanced on goods in 
storage. Separate rooms to rent by month ; or year. Pianos and Furniture 
moved and stored with skill and care. 

No. 32 Woodlawn Avenue, Saratoga, New York. 

HARVEY L. FINCH, 

DEALER IN 

ARTISTIC WALL PAPER, 

WINDOW SHADES, 

Picture Frames, Etchings, Engravings, Etc., 

448 BROADWAY, SARATOGA SPRINGS, NEW YORK, 

THE NEWS OF SOCIETY. 

Everything that is going on in Society is paragraphed weekly in 

TI^UTH, 

The most brilliant Publication of the kind In the World. 

Its# Hews Is Always* Presti. 

* 

Its Illustrations Always Pleasing. 

Its Information Always l^selusive. 

For sale by all newsdealers at 10 cents a copy, or may be ordered at 
office of publication, 18 West 23d St., New York. 


EVERETT HOUSE 

4th Avenue and 17th Street, New York. 

Centrally Located. : : Overlooking Union Square. 
Table Service a la Carte. 

JOHN G. WEAVER, JR., & CO. 


+ OCEAN * HOUSE, tf- 

NEWPORT, R. I. 

J. G. WEAVER & SON, Proprietors. 








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WRITE TO 


G. Schirmer, 35 Union Sq., N.Y., 


FOR ANY OF THESE CHOICE SONGS, 

In High, Medium, or Low Key, 






THERE IS NOT A POOR ONE IN THE LIST. 


Star of My Heart , ...L. Denza 50 

The Land of Dreams “ 35 

The Exchange “ 35 

Queen of the Earth C. Pinsuti 50 

Winter Romualdo Sapio 35 

Spring “ “ 50 

Some Ope F. N.Shepperd 50 

The Parting Word C. Hoby 50 

Under the Violets “ 50 

L’Inconnue “ 50 

Sixteen Pauline Viandot 75 

Marjorie’s Wedding Bells, by 

Annie E. Armstrong 50 

Jeannie “ “ “ 50 

To Maggie W. H. Squire 50 

Russian Song E. Paladilhe 50 

This Heart of Mine L. Kellie 50 

Ninon F. P. Tosti 50 

When in My Dreams I Meet You. 

Max Voorich 50 
Springtime is but Love. L. Gangloff 50 

Greeting at Night A. M. Storch 35 

The Vesper Hymn. . . .H. R. Shelly 50 
The Owl and the Pussy Cat. Geo. 

Ingraham 50 
Thou Art Mine All. . . .Th. Bradsky 35 

Cradle Song Franz Ries 35 

My Neighbor A. G. Thomas 50 


Morning Song E. Gelli 50 

What Else Can I Say ? Lassen 35 

Ouvrez Dessauer 50 

The Nightingale Leo Delibes 75 

Leaving yet Loving Marizal 50 

The Broken Pitcher H. Poutet 50 

My Lady’s Bower .... Hope Temple 50 

Memories “ “ 50 

Spring Sun J. Faure 50 

Those Old World Dreams.. .Munro 50 
The Kingdom of Love. ..P Rodney 50 

Sing to Me Denza 50 

Song of the Almee Delibes 75 

Sacred Love Franz Liszt 25 

Last Ni^ht Isidore De Lara 50 

Evening A. Thomas 50 

Expectation. Strelezki &5 

The Proposal “ 50 

Dearest Heart, Farewell “ 50 

A Secret “ 25 

Rosebud H. N. Bartlett 25 

Good Morning Grieg 25 

Proposal Karl Walter 50 

Two Marionettes Edith Cooke 40 

The Love Knot Max Vogrich 50 

The Magig Song,. .Meyer Helmund 50 
Maiden’s “ “ 35 


These Songs are among the fresh and worthy compositions 
of our best composers ; suitable for drawing-room or concert 
use, and sure to please cultivated and refined singers and 
hearers. 


All Orders promptly filled and mailed to any part of the Country. 


The World-Renowned 




The Great Standard Cathartic 
and Alterative Mineral Water. 


Sold • by • all * Principal • Druggists. 


CONGRESS SPRING CO., 


SARATOGA SPRINGS, N. Y. 


BBiLI D 


The Saratoga News, 

A Complete Chronicle of Summer Social Events at America’s 

Greatest Spa. 

CORRESPONDENCE FROM ALL THE SUMMER RESORTS. 

It Will Tell You Where Your Friends Are and What They Are Doing. 

Subscription for the Season, 12 Weeks, $1.00; Single Copies, 10 cts. 

H. BRADFORD ROCKWOOD, Local Editor. 

HUESTIS HOUSE, 

South Broadway, 

SARATOGA SPRINGS, N.Y. 

A First-class Family Hotel, numbering among its patrons the First People 
of the land. Under one management for 25 years ; has electric bells, 
private baths, steam heat and all the contrivances of a first-class house. 
Send for Circulars, with List of References. 

"W. JB. HTJESTIS, Prop. 


United States Hotel U ver y> 

BY 

ADAMS & HODGMAN, 

Division Street, 

REAR OF WORDEN HOTEL. : : ; NEAR THE DEPOT. 

All kinds of neat, comfortable, convenient and stylish equipages, 
double or single, to let by the day or hour. Orders by telephone or mail 
promptly filled. 


A MASQUE OF HONOR 


\ Saratoga Romance 



CAROLINE WASHBURN ROCKWOOD. 



FUNK & WAGNALLS 
NEW YORK : LONDON : 

1889 


18 AND 20 ASTOR PLACE. 


44 FLEET STREET. 


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We offer first mortgages direct, to run five years, or we furnish 

GOLD DEBENTURE BONDS 

TO RUN TEN YEARS. 

*** Correspondence solicited. Full particulars furnished in 
regard to these choice investment securities. 


Popular Books by Professor Nathan Sheppard. 

“ Saratoga Chips and Carlsbad 

Wafers." 

“These literary chips and wafers are done to a nicety and create an 
appetite for more. Professor Sheppard’s style is delightfully crisp and 
spirited. He possesses the happy faculty of combining wit and wisdom in- 
extricably.— New York Sun. 

“ Before an Audience .” 

“This book has produced a sensation seldom equalled, except by sensa- 
tional novels.”— Eds. 

“ The subject is treated in a lively, pungent, epigrammatic way, and the 
author is a hard hitter.” — Eclectic Magazine. 

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formal class of educational works, yet jt is emphatically an educational 
book in the best sense of the word.” — London Tablet. 

(Funk & W agnails, Publishers, New York.) 

“ Shut Up in Paris.” 

“ Possesses all the attrations of a novel.” — Morning Post (London). 

“It is vivacious, suggestive and picturesque.”— Pall Mall Gazette (Lon- 
don). 

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(Richard Bently & Son, Publishers, London, Eng.) 

“ Darwinism Stated by Darwin 

Himself.” 

“ In the book before us Mr. Sheppard has nowhere swerved from his 
purpose of showing in a clear, connected and very compendious form, not 
what Darwin may have meant, or has been charged with meaning, but 
what he actually said.” — New York Sun. 

(D. Appleton & Co., Publishers, New York.) 


















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